I 


GIFT  OF 
N.J.   Fibush 


THEE-TOAUS. 


COUNTRY  COUSINS 

i 

SHORT  STUDIES  IN  THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF 
THE  UNITED  STATES 


.    ,      , 


BY 


ERNEST    INGERSOLL 


AUTHOR  OF  "FRIENDS  WORTH  KNOWING"  "KNOCKING  ROUND  THE  ROCKIES" 
"THE  ICE  QUEEN"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


N E  W    YORK 
HARPER     &     BROTHERS,     FRANKLIN     SQUARE 

1884 


BIOLOGT 
LIBRARY 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

MY    FATHEK 


NOTE   BY  THE  AUTHOR 

substance  of  the  greater  part  of  this  book  has  been  printed  hereto- 
fore  in  various  periodicals,  and  is  now  republished  by  the  kind  permis- 
sion of  the  proprietors  of  The  Century,  St.  Nicholas,  The  Manhattan,  J7ie 
American  Naturalist,  Appletorts  Journal,  Science  News,  The  Field  (London), 
The  Current,  The  Congregationalist,  and  Good  Cheer. 

In  all  cases,  however,  the  articles  have  been  carefully  revised,  and  to 
some  of  them  extensive  additions  have  been  made.  It  is  hoped  that  the 
result  will  contain  not  only  some  entertainment,  but  also  helpful  suggestions 
for  those  who  take  delight  in  out-door  studies. 

NEW  HAVEN,  CONN.,  August  1,  1884. 


CONTENTS. 


•  PAGE 

MY  FIRST  TREE-CHOPPING 13 

II. 

A  WET  DAY  WITH  THE  BIRDS 21 

III. 

THE  LEAST  OF  THE  MAMMALS 32 

IV. 

BIRDS  OF  THE  BROOKSIDE .- 39 

V. 

WINTER  WORK  FOR  NATURALISTS 49 

VI. 

A  MODEL  FIELD-NATURALIST 54 

VII. 

NATURE  IN  WINTER-QUARTERS 58 

VIII. 

AT  A  SEA-SIDE  LABORATORY 77 

IX. 

RATTLESNAKES  IN  FACT  AND  FANCY 90 

X. 

"MiNE  OYSTER'S  "  BATTLE  OF  LIFE  .  113 


10  CONTENTS. 

XL  PAGE 

SEA-STARS  AND  THEIR  MISCHIEF 119 

XII. 

Pi  i:  I  \\INKLES  AND  OTHER  OYSTER-PESTS 137 

XIII. 
THE  HISTORY  OP  A  MANGROVE  KEY 150 

XIV. 

THE  POMPANO-SHELLS 156 

XV. 

A  PRACTICAL  VIEW  OF  DEVIL-FISHES 161 

XVI. 

ELK  ANTLERS 168 

XVII. 
A  CHAT  ABOUT  BOB  WHITE 175 

XVIII. 
SEALS  AND  SEAL-HUNTING  IN  THE  NORTH  ATLANTIC 182 

XIX. 

THE  CAVERNS  AT  LURAY  AND  AT  PIKE'S  PEAK 203 

XX. 

THE  ABALONE  AND  ITS  UTILITY 221 

XXI. 

Tin.  SHELL-MONEY  OF  THE  NATIVE  AMERICANS.    .    .  .  227 


INDEX .249 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Tree-toads Frontispiece 

"Bright  Dots  of  Goldfinches"      ...  15 

The  Great  Carolina  Wren 26 

The  Retreat  of  the  Towhee 29 

Blarina— the  Short-tailed  Shrew   ...  33 
Skull  of  a  Shrew  (magnified),  showing 

Character  of  the  Teeth 35 

Neosorex — the  Long-tailed  Shrew     .     .  37 
' '  The  Edge  of  a  Brook  in  the  Country  "  40 
"Pebbly  Shallows  just  above  the  Cata- 
ract"   45 

Brook  Blossoms 48 

Moths .     .  53 

Trying  its  Wings 54 

The  Struggle  for  Existence  in  Winter   .  59 

Thick-shelled  Paludinse 62 

Partridges  in  Winter 69 

A  Vigilant  Hare 71 

After  a  Sleet  Storm 73 

The  Fox's  Winter  Prey 75 

Alexander  Agassiz 79 

Materials  for  Laboratory  Study    ...  89 

A  Typical  Rattlesnake 93 

Head  of  the  Copperhead  —  upper  and 

under  views 95 

Head  of  the  Copperhead — side  and  face 

views 95 

Cranium  of  Crotalus,  with  Muscles  con- 
cerned in  the  Venom  Stroke .  .  103 


PAGK 

Bones  of  the  Upper  Jaw 103 

Relation  of  Temporal  Muscles  to  the 

Gland 104 

Oyster's  Egg,  immediately  after  Fertili- 
zation   113 

Egg  three  Hours  after  Fertilization  .     .  114 

Egg  at  a  Later  Stage 114 

Egg  in  its  Final  Stage 114 

First  Appearance  of  the  Embryo  .     .     .115 
An  Oyster  One  Year  Old,  showing  Em- 
bryonic Shell  at  the  Apex,  and  Lines 

of  subsequent  Additions 115 

The  Slipper  Limpet 118 

Star-fishes  (lower  figure  showing  under 

side  and  ambulacroe) 121 

Egg  of  the  Star-fish,  after  Fertilization  .  124 
An  Egg  nearly  ready  to  Hatch  .  .  .124 
An  Embryo  Star-fish  at  an  early  Stage, 

seen  edgewise 124 

A  more  advanced  Embryo,  swimming 
by  Rows  of  Cilia  along  the  Protuber- 
ances   125 

A  Young  Star-fish 125 

Dining  upon  an  Oyster 129 

Reproducing  four  lost  Arms     ....  133 

Shell  of  Fulgur  carica 138 

A  "  Sea-necklace  " — Egg-cases  of  Fulgur  140 

Sycotypus  canaliculatus 141 

Purpura  lapillus 145 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Lunatia  heros,  with  Outline  of  Expand- 
ed Foot 145 

Egg-capsules  of  the  Drill 145 

Ilyanassa  obsoleta 146 

Tritia  trivitata   .' 146 

Urosalpinx  cinerea 146 

Blue,  or  Soft-shelled  Crab— Callinectes 

hastatus ".    .147 

Common  Shore  Crab — Cancer  irroratus  147 
At  the  Margin  of  a  Mangrove  Key  .  .154 
Shell  Mounds,  Fort  George  Island  .  .  155 

Pompano-shells 158 

Under  Surface  of  the  Common  Squid — 

Loligo  pealei  .    .    .    .    -.  ,.    .     .     .162 
The  Giant  Squid  (Architeuthis)  of  New- 
foundland .  .  164 


The  Argonaut  Cuttle,  or  Paper  Nautilus  167 
A  Wapiti  "  Bull "  and  "  Calf  "  .  .  .  .169 
Elk  Antlers  of  Regular  Growth  .  .  .171 
An  Irregular  Pair  of  Horns  .  .  .  .172 

Extinct ! 174 

The  Harbor-seal 183 

Panic-stricken  by  a  Sword-fish  .  .  .  187 
A  Harp -seal  Mother  and  her  Little 

One 189 

The  Hooded  Seal— Cystophora  cristata .  191 
Floating  on  an  Ice-pan    ......  193 

A  "  Seal  Meadow,"  or  Herd  upon  the 

Ice 195 

The  Sealing-fleet  entering  the  Ice .  .  .  197 

Dragging  Bundles  of  Pelts 200 

The  Abalone,  fully  Expanded  ....  223 


COUNTRY   COUSINS. 


i. 

MY  FIRST  TREE-CHOPPING. 

I  HAVE  cut  down  my  first  big  tree  to-day,  and  am  the  possessor  of 
my  first  axe.  These  two  important  events  came  about  in  this  way : 
Opposite  my  house  is  a  small  grove  of  splendid  trees.  One  of  them,  a 
fine,  large,  red  oak,  was  badly  decayed  near  the  roots,  and  would  surely 
fall  in  some  high  wind  next  winter.  So  my  neighbor,  who  is  never  so 
happy  as  when  he  can  get  me  hard  at  work  out-of-doors,  said  he  would 
give  me  the  tree  for  three  dollars,  if  I  would  cut  it  down  and  bring  it 
across  to  my  own  domain  without  asking  any  help. 

"  I  suspect  there  are  three  cords  of  wood  in  that  tree,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"and  I'll  lend  you  an  axe." 

I  accepted,  and  this  afternoon  we  went  at  it. 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  grind  the  axe  a  bit,"  the  Doctor  remarked,  finger- 
ing its  already  keen  edge.  "  A  good  woodsman  always  minds  that  his 
axe  is  sharp.  I  knew  a  man  once  who  would  chop  four  cords  of  wood  a 
day  all  winter  long ;  he  never  wasted  a  blow,  and  each  time  he  struck 
he  half  buried  his  axe,  but  it  was  ground  every  day."  ' 

Accordingly,  I  turned  the  grindstone  behind  the  barn  while  the  Doc- 
tor, in  his  great  green  dressing-gown  and  New  Hampshire  moccasins, 
held  the  axe.  By-and-by  I  began  to  think  he  was  too  scrupulous  about 
that  edge,  and  hinted  as  much. 

"Do  you  remember  Franklin's  story  about  the  speckled  axe?  It  is 
in  one  of  his  early  letters." 

I  did  not,  and  the  Doctor  repeated  it.  He  pointed  no  moral — he  is 
not  the  kind  of  a  man  to  do  that — but  I  kept  on  turning  in  silence  until 
he  brought  the  edge  to  his  idea  of  perfection.  Then  he  swung  it  through 
the  weeds,  and  it  cut  them  off  as  a  new  sickle  might  have  done. 


14  AN   UNGOVERNABLE  AXE. 

The  tree  was  nearly  eight  feet  in  circumference,  where  I  was  to  cut 
it,  close  to  the  ground.  It  was  straight,  and  pretty  tall,  but  leaned  well 
out  *4vfct  s6nve:lp^T,:c{ear  ground,  upon  which  I  proposed  to  drop  it,  or 
••full:iV*'  as'iiost  lumbermen  would  say,  in  a  confusion  of  the  verbs  "to 
efl|>;5tf5|/lto*3f4ll.'3  ;X>h*Yhat  side  it  was  very  solid,  but  on  the  upper 
V5«ie»**»  d<fc*f>'*caTitj*iiacT'Been  eaten  in,  which  I  thought  would  lessen  my 
labor  immensely. 

Laying  aside  my  coat,  I  struck  a  blow  at  the  tough  bark ;  the  axe 
sank  deeply  through  it  into  the  white  sap-wood.  A  second,  and  a  triangu- 
lar chip  flew  out,  while  a  flicker,  uttering  his  shrill,  healthy  cry,  darted 
from  the  topmost  limb  in  sudden  fright.  A  third  blow  easily  dislodged 
a  great  yellow  fragment  and  seemed  to  make  a  big  gap. 

"Why,  this  is  fun!"  I  said  to  myself.  "I'll  have  it  down  in  a  few 
minutes." 

But  as  I  got  farther  into  the  brown  heart-wood  the  chips  grew  smaller, 
and  the  constantly  broadening  cut  seemed  to  deepen  very  slowly.  Half 
an  hour  passed,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  a  tremble  in  the  tree,  or  appar- 
ent approach  to  the  hollow  heart  on  which  I  had  counted  to  help  me.  It 
was  a  cool  September  day,  but  the  perspiration  had  by  this  time  started 
plentifully,  and  I  divested  myself  of  collar  and  waistcoat.  The  Doctor 
lay  stretched  on  the  grass  near  by,  his  bushy  gray  head  strongly  printed 
against  a  splendid  clump  of  golden-rod. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  "you've  done  the  worst  of  it.  You've  got  lines  to 
guide  your  axe  now  !" 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  needed  something  more  than  those  lines  to 
make  my  strokes  go  true.  Nearly  half  the  blows  were  wasted,  because  I 
could  not  hit  precisely  what  I  aimed  at.  Growing  nervous,  my  axe 
once  shied  off  and  came  within  a  hair's-breadth  of  laying  open  my  foot. 
With  a  sardonic  grin  the  Doctor  came  to  my  assistance,  and  with  practised 
hand  cleared  up  some  of  the  hackings  with  which  I  had  disfigured  the 
>tump. 

"  I  had  an  uncle,"  he  said,  pausing  after  a  little,  "  who  was  a  famous 
chopper  up  in  the  Mohawk  Valley.  When  he  was  past  seventy,  he  had 
a  man  working  for  him  who  thought  himself  pretty  smart,  and  my  uncle 
offered  to  'butt'  him." 

"What's  that?"  I  interrupted,  thinking  of  negroes  and  rams. 

"In  'butting,'  a  man  proposes  to  cut  off  the  butt  end  of  a  prostrate 
tree-trunk  while  his  rival  is  cutting  through  the  diminished  diameter  at 
the  upper  end  of  a  log's  length.  My  uncle  beat  the  workman,  in  spite 
of  his  three  score  and  ten." 


THE   TREE-FROGS. 


15 


After  another   spell  at    the  axe,  during 
which  I  began  to  make  two  cuts,  one  a 
few  inches  above  the  other,  and  to  split 
off    the    intervening    portion, 
thus  saving  work,  I  found 
my   right  arm    in    good 
shape,  but  my  left  arm 
very  tired,  while  I  could  not 
control  the  fingers  of  my  left 
hand    at    all,  but   had   to 
•  \        straighten  them  out  one 


"  BRIGHT  DOTS  OF   GOLDFINCHES." 


by    one    with    the    other    hand,    as 
though  they  were  attachments  quite 
apart  from  my  own  anatomy.     A  beau- 
tiful blister  was  rising  on  the  ball  of  the 
second  digit. 

Just  as  I  was  returning  to  work,  a  protu- 
berance on  the  bark  caught  my  eye.    It  seemed 
to  be  a  large  cocoon  of  some  unknown  moth. 
Placing  my  hand  upon  it,  it  moved  quickly, 
and  I  was  astonished  to  find  a  yellow-breeched 
tree-frog  in  my  grasp.     His  back  was  exactly 
the  color  of  the  vbark,  mottlings  and  all,  and 
it  was  only  by  chance  I  had  caught  sight  of 
him.     He  was  finely  disguised,  and  protected 
against  his  enemies  by  his  invisible  dress — far  differ- 
ent from  the  bright  dots  of  goldfinches,  whose  gleam- 
ing yellow  coats  I  could  detect  in  the  thicket  a  long  dis- 
tance up  the  hill.     This  frog's  immobility,  while  his 
perch  was  being  felled,  was  a  good  illustration  of  the 
western   phrase  that  describes  a  man   who  is  stolid, 
when  excitement  would  be  more  in  place,  as  "  sitting 
like  a  bump  on  a  log."     That  was  precisely  the  case 
with  this  calm  hyla — well  surnamed  versicolor — whose 
portrait  appears   in   the   frontispiece,  beside  that  of  his 
neighbor  the  wood-frog. 


16  A  GOOD  BARGAIN  DECLINED. 

Something  over  an  hour  had  now  passed,  and  the  bronze-red  pep- 
peridge  across  the  street  had  become  scarlet  and  royal  purple  in  the  fierce 
light  of  the  almost  level  sun.  The  Doctor  walked  round  and  round  the 
tree  encouraging  me. 

"She'll  come  in  a  minute — in  a  minute!  Hit  her  again — she  hasn't 
any  friends !  She's  a-coming !" 

But,  bless  you !  my  repeated  whacks,  littering  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood with  chips  (which  already  had  attracted  a  swarm  of  carpenter  bees), 
seemed  to  have  no  more  effect  than  would  the  cracking  of  hickory-nuts 
at  the  base  of  Pompey's  Pillar.  Tho,  harder  I  worked,  the  more  I  sweat ; 
and  the  oftener  a  blow  went  wild  the  more  that  wicked  neighbor  of  mine 
hugged  himself  with  glee,  and  exasperated  me  by  personal  remarks  and 
unfounded  encouragement. 

"  All  great  men,"  he  said,  with  evenly  shared  flattery,  "  have  been 
choppers.  There's  Horace,  and  Gladstone,  and  Grevy,  and  Greeley,  and— 

"  R.  B.  Hayes,"  I  interrupted.  "  Go  on — pretty  soon  you'll  disprove 
your  own  statement." 

"Oh  no,"  he  answered,  unruffled,  ayou  and  I  are  enough  to  keep  up 
the  average.  Now,  Brother  I.,"  he  continued,  changing  the  subject, 
"I've  another  idea.  You  see  those  trees  over  there?  I  have  just  bought 
them." 

He  pointed  to  another  part  of  the  grove  where  four  great  trunks 
diverged  from  the  same  root.  They  were  oaks  of  huge  size  and  fine  sym- 
metry, and  had  been  highly  prized  by  every  one  near,  until  some  angel- 
forsaken  miscreant  kindled  a  fire  in  their  midst  and  burned  the  heart  out 
of  the  whole  group.  That  man  will  be  hanged  yet  if  Nature  has  her  dues! 
Now  that  they  had  become  feeble  it  was  necessary  to  take  them  down,  in 
order  to  save  their  crushing  other  ornaments  of  the  bosky  knoll  by  an 
unguarded  fall. 

As  I  carefully  straightened  out  my  nerveless  fingers,  and  slowly  un- 
bent my  stiffened  arm,  I  replied,  "  What  of  it?" 

"  This,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  I'll  give  you  those  four  big  trees  for  eight 
dollars  if  you  will  remove  them." 

"I  won't  do  it,"  I  said ;  "but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I'll  give 
you  six  dollars  for  the  trees,  and  then  I'll  give  you  half  the  wood,  if  you 
will  place  the  other  half,  piled  up,  in  my  back  yard." 

He  smiled  blandly,  but  declined.  That  man  don't  know  a  good  bar- 
gain when  he  sees  it. 

It  was  now  nearly  two  hours  since  the  work  had  been  begun,  and  I 
was  getting  tired.  What  sufferings  Eobinson  Crusoe  must  have  had  in 


ARRESTING  A   SQUIRREL-THIEF.  17 

hewing  down  the  great  tree  for  his  boat ;  and  how  the  red  men  must  have 
toiled  with  their  old  stone  adzes  to  fell  the  big  logs  they  needed  for  their 
dug-outs !  I  never  understood  it  before.  The  hollow  heart  of  this  oak 
was  a  fraud.  It  is  a  frequent  occurrence  to  think  a  tree  sound  and  find 
it  rotten ;  but  to  think  it  rotten  and  find  it  sound  is  a  thousand  times 
worse.  T  was  a  victim  of  misplaced  confidence.  At  last,  however,  I 
thought  I  had  gone  deep  enough  into  the  undercut,  for  the  gash  yawned 
like  a  grave,  and  there  seemed  to  be  several  bushels  of  chips.  Whether, 
however,  I  should  have  had  the  pluck  to  treat  myself  to  a  fair  rest  is  un- 
certain ;  but  I  was  saved  the  trial,  and  given  the  needed  recreation,  by  the 
occurrence  of  an  incident  which  took  us  to  another  part  of  the  grove,  and 
taught  us  a  new  lesson  in  brute  kindliness — words  that  seem  to  contain  a 
paradox  only  because  we  have  allowed  a  perverted  notion  of  things  to 
possess  our  minds. 

Upon  the  large  estates  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  city  are  enclosed 
groves  of  oak,  hickory,  chestnut,  and  other  mast-bearing  trees— the  "Sa- 
chem's Woods"  of  the  poet,  James  Hillhouse — where  many  gray  squir- 
rels rear  their  families  in  almost  entire  security. 

For  the  dozen  or  more  pairs  that  inhabit  our  particular  grove  the 
Doctor  had  put  boxes  in  convenient  tree-crotches,  which  the  squirrels  at 
once  took  possession  of.  He  also  hoisted  a  suspension -bridge  between 
two  large  trees  much  frequented  by  them,  and  we  all  have  derived  a  great 
deal  of  amusement  in  watching  the  antics  of  the  little  fellows  upon  this 
aerial  road.  It  is  sixty-five  feet  long,  swings  about  twenty  feet  above  the 
ground,  and  consists  of  short  poles,  wired  into  a  cable. 

Some  families  of  squirrels,  however,  live  in  another  grove  beyond 
the  fence,  and  make  nests  in  wild  fashion  of  leaves  and  twigs,  lined  with 
leaves  and  shredded  bark.  This  grove  is  open  to  the  public,  and  there  the 
squirrels  suffer  in  spite  of  all  our  vigilance :  only  a  small  portion  of  hu- 
manity have  become  civilized  up  to  the  present  time. 

Just  as  I  was  giving  the  last  stroke  to  the  finished  undercut,  I  saw  my 
friendly  monitor  spring  to  his  feet  and  hasten  towards  a  boy  who  had 
just  come  from  the  farther  grove.  Underneath  the  boy's  coat  could  be 
heard  faint  squeakings,  and  pouncing  upon  the  frightened  youth  the  Doc- 
tor claimed  and  instantly  received  two  young  squirrels,  while  the  plun- 
derer took  to  his  heels  with  the  greatest  alacrity. 

The  little  rodents  were  now  in  the  hands  of  a  well-wisher,  but  they 
were  orphans  and  homeless.  What  could  be  done  with  them  ?  In  size 
they  were  half  as  large  as  the  adults,  but  they  had  hardly  been  weaned, 
and  were  totally  innocent  of  the  world.  Brought  into  my  friend's  big 

2 


18  AN  ORPHANAGE  IN  A  CHESTNUT. 

yard,  as  the  first  step  towards  help,  one  of  the  rash  pair  darted  from  the 
Doctor's  gentle  grasp,  and  scrambled  up  a  tree  to  the  first  crotch,  where  it 
lay  hugging  the  limb. 

With  the  other  we  walked  towards  the  house.  It  uttered  frequently 
a  piteous  little  cry,  and  this  attracted  in  an  instant  the  attention  of  a 
mother  squirrel,  who,  with  her  half-grown  family,  occupied  a  box  in  the 
oak.  She  rushed  out  in  a  flurry  of  excitement,  and  hastened  down  to  the 
bridge,  where,  as  the  Doctor  came  underneath,  she  seemed  almost  ready 
to  jump  down  upon  his  shoulders,  so  great  was  her  distress  at  the  wailing 
of  the  frightened  youngster  he  carried. 

Thinking  he  could  do  no  better,  he  placed  the  little  one  on  the  ground, 
and  we  retired  to  watch  what  might  follow.  As  soon  as  the  old  squir- 
rel saw  him  do  this  (the  whole  agile  tribe  have  become  very  tame  towards 
us)  she  ran  swiftly  down  the  chestnut-trunk  to  the  ground,  and  thence 
to  the  side  of  the  lost  infant,  which  she  could  not  find  in  the  tall  grass 
without  standing  on  her  hind-legs  two  or  three  times,  and  gazing  care- 
fully around. 

No  sooner  was  the  orphan  discovered  than  the  motherly  heart  of  the 
old  one  decided  to  take  it  at  once  to  her  own  home.  Putting  her  arms 
about  it  in  the  most  touching  way,  she  spent  a  few  seconds  by  its  side,  and 
then  trotted  off,  bidding  the  stranger  follow.  But  the  grass  was  tall,  and 
the  little  one  was  timid.  Again  and  again  it  would  lose  the  way  or  give 
up,  requiring  the  older  one  to  go  back  and  call  to  and  encourage  it. 
Finally,  the  base  of  the  chestnut  was  reached,  and  the  ascent  of  its  broad 
trunk  and  great  out-stretching  branch  was  an  easy  task. 

Here,  however,  an  immense  difficulty  awaited  the  anxious  mother,  and 
a  seemingly  impossible  task  confronted  the  timid  foundling.  Out  beyond 
the  broad  avenue  of  the  chestnut-limb  stretched  the  slender  pathway  of 
the  long  bridge,  with  its  steep  slope  at  the  other  end,  upward  to  where 
the  snug  haven  of  "home"  nestled  invitingly  in  the  lofty  oak.  To  an 
adult  sciurus,  leaping  from  spray  to  spray  among  the  topmost  twigs  of 
the  tallest  trees,  this  was  the  most  pleasant  and  easy  of  runways ;  even  to 
Mother  Squirrel's  half  educated  bairns,  one  of  which  now  sat  almost  invis- 
ible upon  the  roof  of  its  box  watching  the  proceedings  with  curious  black 
eyes,  this  bridge  had  lost  its  terrors,  for  they  had  practised  it  by  easy 
stages  under  parental  guidance;  but  for  the  baby  so  rudely  thrown  upon 
its  own  resources,  that  wavering  cable  offered  too  thin  and  dizzy  a  foot- 
hold to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment  as  a  means  of  transit,  however  allur- 
ing might  be  the  prospect  at  the  other  end. 

There  was  a  pause.     The  old  squirrel  ran  nimbly  out  a  few  feet  and 


A  SQUIRREL-MOTHER'S  SAGACITY.  19 

looked  back.  The  trembling  youngster  had  not  followed.  She  called  to 
him  in  low  chatterings,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  forsake  the  security  of  the 
big  limb.  Then  she  went  back  and  caressed  the  small  stranger.  One 
can  imagine  all  the  fond,  re-assuring  things  she  said  to  him,  squirrel  fash- 
ion, while  she  licked  his  ruffled  fur  and  quieted  his  fears.  The  delay  was 
so  long  that  we  began  to  fear  she  would  fail,  but  presently  she  marched 
slowly  out  on  the  bridge,  looking  over  her  shoulder,  and  the  young  one 
timidly  followed,  creeping  with  great  caution  and  fear. 

Seemingly  everything  was  going  well,  but  in  the  middle  of  the  bridge 
the  little  fellow's  courage  failed,  and  all  the  old  gray's  coaxing  could  not 
induce  him  to  take  another  step.  She  was  by  no  means  at  the  end  of  her 
resources,  nevertheless.  Darting  across  to  her  house,  she  came  back  with 
one  of  her  own  children,  and  introduced  him  to  the  terror-stricken  little 
orphan.  "  See  !"  she  said  to  it,  in  effect,  "  here's  a  kitten  not  much  big- 
ger than  you,  who  can  run  along  the  bridge  as  fine  as  anything.  You 
need  only  to  be  brave."  Thus  stimulated,  the  foundling  made  a  desperate 
attempt  to  go  on,  attended  and  coaxed  by  its  two  hosts.  Once  it  faltered, 
ajid  then  the  mother  squirrel  tried  a  final  expedient.  Stretching  her  legs 
wide  apart,  she  placed  herself-  completely  over  the  young  one's  flattened 
'body,  holding  it  on,  as  it  were,  and  moving  along  with  it  as  it  crawled 
forward,  until  the  pluck  of  the  baby  revived ;  the  last  quarter  of  the 
bridge  was  more  nimbly  traversed,  and  the  safety,  warmth,  and,  doubtless, 
food  of  the  new  hospice  were  gained. 

Subsequently  we  caught  the  other  orphan  and  carried  him  to  the  root 
of  the  oak,  where  he  was  invited  to  share  the  same  hospitality  without 
having  to  pass  the  ordeal  of  the  bridge. 

This  incident  seemed  remarkable  to  us  who  witnessed  it. 

In  the  first  place,  that  a  squirrel  should  exhibit  so  intense  an  anxiety 
at  distress  outside  her  own  circle,  and  show  so  genuine  and  persistent  a 
desire  to  give  aid,  ending  in  adopting  two  outcasts  without  hesitation. 

Next,  that  she  should  show  so  much  sagacity  in  accomplishing  this 
kind  purpose.  Her  patience  in  leading  the  nervous  little  stranger  along 
through  the  grass  and  out  upon  the  bridge  seemed  inexhaustible.  When 
she  found  that  it  was  too  timid  and  inexperienced  to  cross  the  long  cable 
(for  squirrels  must  learn  to  climb  as  seals  learn  to  swim  and  men  learn  to 
walk),  it  was  a  manoeuvre  dictated  by  little  less  than  reason  to  bring  her 
own  kitten  as  an  example  of  what  little  squirrels,  as  well  as  big,  might  do, 
if  they  had  enough  resolution.  So  far  as  we  could  see,  all  her  coaxing 
and  aid  would  have  been  futile  had  not  this  last  expedient  been  brought 
to  bear. 


20  THE  FALLING  OF  THE  TREE. 

Meanwhile  my  tree  was  only  half  severed.  Keturning  to  it  an  in- 
cision was  begun  on  the  upper  side.  I  had  been  solicitous  about  the 
straightness  and  smoothness  of  the  undercut— that  the  "  corners  "  should 
be  squarely  at  right  angles  to  the  line  of  fall,  etc. ;  but  I  gave  all  that 
worry  up  now,  and  cared  only  that  somehow  the  tree  should  be  got  down. 
The  scientific  work  I  had  seen  in  the  great  red-wood  forests  of  California 
might  apply  here,  or  might  not ;  I  didn't  care.  So  long  as  the  Doctor 
lay  idly  gazing  at  me  with  an  amused  smile,  I  was  anxious  only  to  bring 
that  obstinate  oak  to  the  ground  as  speedily  as  possible.  But  this  upper- 
cut  I  had  thought  would  be  so  easy  proved  another  fraud.  The  decayed 
part  of  the  wood  was  only  skin-deep ;  under  it  lay  a  mass,  dead,  to  be  sure, 
but  hard  and  dry — nearly  as  tough  as  iron.  I  chopped  at  it  until  I  was 
nearly  ready  to  drop  with  fatigue. 

"Don't  work  so  rapidly,"  my  monitor  called  out;  "you  should  strike 
no  faster  than  you  can  keep  up  all  day,  never  stopping  to  rest  at  all." 

At  last,  however,  there  came  a  faint  cracking  sound  of  overstrained 
fibre.  I  jumped  back,  but  the  tree  stood  there,  its  great  green  head  rust- 
ling unconcernedly  as  of  old.  "  Keep  at  it,"  said  the  Doctor,  and  I  did 
so,  working  with  exasperated  energy  at  the  points  I  thought  gave  the 
strongest  support  all  around  the  trunk.  Fibres  cracked,  but  there  was  no 
shivering  for  a  long  time.  It  was  astonishing  how  that  enormously  heavy, 
far-leaning,  mass  of  wood  and  foliage  held  its  erect  position.  Finally,  a 
sharp  report  of  rending  tendons  was  heard — a  sudden  lurch  of  the  top- 
most boughs  was  seen ;  then  a  second's  pause,  as  though  the  giant  was 
about  to  recover  itself — a  slow  swaying  forward — a  swiftly-gathered  force 
and  motion — a  tremendous,  swinging  crash  to  the  shaken  ground. 

The  tree  was  down,  and  I  climbed  upon  the  log  with  intense  satis- 
faction. 

"I  must  buy  an  axe!"  I  exclaimed,  feeling  that  whole  forests  were 
ahead  of  me. 

"  There  is  one,"  said  the  smiling  Doctor,  picking  up  the  tool  I  had 
just  thrown  aside,  "for  which  I  paid  one  dollar  and  a  quarter.  What  will 
you  give  for  it  ?" 

"  Seventy-five  cents,"  I  answered. 

"  Done !"  said  he,  and  handed  it  over. 

"  Now  you  will  get  a  new  one,"  I  remarked. 

"Perhaps  so — by-and-by,"  he  replied,  slowly,  with  that  provoking 
twinkle  in  his  eyes;  "but  as  you  have  been  borrowing  mine  for  a  while, 
I  think  I'll  borrow  yours  when  I  want  one  this  winter— eh?" 


II. 

A  WET  DAY  WITH  THE  BIRDS. 

DOWN  in  Virginia  I  was  once  delayed  four  hours  at  a  little  railway 
junction  right  in  the  woods.  It  was  June,  and  so  ought  to  have 
been  sunny,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  air  was  chilly,  the  sky  was  covered 
with  heavy  clouds,  and  now  and  then  came  dashes  of  cold  rain.  This 
is  by  no  means  the  sort  of  weather  birds  feel  gay  in,  and  when  they  are 
chilly  and  blue,  they  are  no  more  likely  to  sing  with  spirit  and  move  in 
a  sprightly  way  than  are  we  ourselves.  Certainly  it  was  a  poor  day  for 
ornithology,  but  I  started  down  the  track  to  see  what  I  could  find,  and 
discovered  a  few  of  this  race  of  my  country  cousins  abroad. 

The  first  one  I  met  was  a  yellow  warbler,  showing  his  salmon-striped 
vest  very  plainly,  but  keeping  very  quiet.  Then  I  struck  a  bunch  of 
sparrows,  which  are  always  great  favorites  of  mine.  There  were  two  or 
three  song-sparrows  and  half  a  dozen  chippies,  or  hair-birds,  as  they  are 
sometimes  called  in  New  England  because  they  use  so  much  horse-hair  in 
building  their  nests.  The  chippies  kept  down  near  the  ground,  running 
through  the  grass,  and  in  and  out  between  the  mossy  rails  of  the  fence, 
but  the  favorite  perch  of  the  song-sparrows  was  high  up  on  the  telegraph 
wires.  I  watched  one  a  long  time.  He  sat  there  right  through  a  shower, 
and  fairly  spouted  his  short  but  most  musical  song,  the  black  patch  on  his 
spotted  breast  (by  which  you  may  always  know  him  from  the  other 
streaked  sparrows)  rising  and  falling  as  he  sang  in  a  way  plainly  visible 
to  me  as  I  stood  down  on  the  rails.  His  ditty,  often  repeated,  was  pre- 
cisely the  same  every  time,  except  in  the  introductory  chatter,  which  was 
cut  short  now  and  then,  as  though  he  couldn't  wait  to  give  the  prelude 
before  letting  you  hear  the  varied  notes  to  follow.  Some  other  song- 
sparrows  not  far  away  sang  in  a  decidedly  different  way  from  him,  though 
evidently  attempting  the  same  tune ;  and  I  should  say  there  was  as  much 
variety  in  their  voices  as  among  the  girls  and  boys  in  a  school-room. 

Every  now  and  then  the  sparrows  would  fly  down  into  the  brush  and 
grape-vines  between  the  track  and  the  fence,  and  stay  a  little  while,  prob- 


22  THE  GKEAT  CAROLINA  WREN. 

ably  hunting  for  food.  They  would  disappear  under  the  foliage,  but  in 
half  a  minute  were  out  again,  peering  around  to  see  that  no  danger  was 
near.  This  incessant  vigilance  is  very  characteristic  of  all  birds  whose 
way  of  living  brings  them  close  to  the  ground,  where  enemies  are  liable 
to  be  lurking.  No  matter  how  quiet  and  safe  all  appears,  they  stop 
work  every  few  seconds  to  stretch  up  their  heads  and  gaze  anxiously 
around  them,  flirting  their  tails  and  half  lifting  their  wings  as  though 
ready  to  take  instant  flight.  This  constant  half-decided  terror  influences 
their  whole  lives,  and  the  cat  which  catches  a  bird  must  be  stealthy  and 
quick, — hence  of  course  they  are  so. 

Another  busy  and  garrulous  little  group  at  the  junction  was  formed 
by  a  pair  of  great  Carolina  wrens,  a  bird  that  unfortunately  the  Northern 
States  cannot  count  on  their  lists,  except  as  a  rare  stranger.  In  the  mid- 
dle districts,  however,  it  is  an  annual  visitor,  if  not  a  permanent  resident, 
for  as  far  north  as  central  New  Jersey  and  southern  Ohio  they  not  only 
breed  every  summer,  but  remain  through  the  coldest  winters. 

About  the  vocal  powers  of  this  wren  much  has  been  said  and  written. 
That  little  fellow  to  which  I  listened  on  the  occasion  I  am  speaking  of 
trilled  a  song  all  his  own — a  loud,  rollicking  warble,  not  at  all  like  the 
exclamatory  roundelay  of  his  neighbor  the  sparrow,  which  was 'full  of 
Polish  ksts,  utterly  unpronounceable  without  a  twist  and  snap  of  the 
voice  that  nothing  less  slender  than  a  bird's  tongue  or  a  whip-lash  could 
hope  to  produce.  But  in  addition  to  this  music  of  his  own  composition, 
he  is  credited  with  powers  of  vocal  mimicry — with  being  an  accomplished 
and  tireless  imitator  of  woodland  melodies,  and  is  more  often  called  the 
mocking  wren  than  by  any  other  name. 

In  the  elaborate  "  History  of  North  American  Birds" — which  ought 
to  have  filled  "a  great  want,"  but  failed  to  do  so,  apart  from  its  technical 
half — the  late  Dr.  T.  M.  Brewer  makes  this  statement  in  respect  to  the 
Carolina  wren  :  "  This  species  possesses  a  great  variety  and  power  of  song. 
It  is  also  said. to  have  and  to  exhibit  remarkable  powers  of  imitation, 
with  a  great  variety  in  its  appropriated  notes  of  other  birds,  giving,  with 
modulations,  the  hoarse  rattle  of  the  kingfisher,  the  lively  notes  of  the 
tufted  titmouse,  the  simple  refrain  of  the  ground-robin,  with  those  of  the 
grakles,  the  meadow-lark,  the  bluebird,  and  others." 

Now  where  did  Dr.  Brewer  get  this  information,  and  how  did  the 
reputation  become  fastened  upon  the  little  bird?  for  certainly  there  is  no 
good  evidence  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  modern  observers  that  this 
wren  ever  truly  mimics  the  voices  of  other  birds,  as  do  the  mockingbird, 
the  cat-bird,  the  sage-thrush  of  the  Kocky  Mountains,  and  some  others. 


AUTHORITIES   UPON  THE   WREN'S   SONG.  23 

Alexander  Wilson's  testimony  is  as  follows:  "It  occasionally  utters 
a  loud,  strong,  and  singular  twitter,  resembling  the  word  chirr-rup,  dwell- 
ing long  and  strongly  on  the  first  syllable,  and  so  loud  that  I  at  first 
mistook  it  for  the  red  bird  (L.  cardinalis).  It  has  also  another  chant, 
rather  more  musical,  like  '  Sweet  William,  Sweet  William?  much  softer 
than  the  former." 

Audubon  seems  to  regard  the  habit  of  singing  from  the  roof  of  a  flat- 
boat  on  the  river  as  the  most  noticeable  point  of  its  vocalism. 

None  of  the  more  modern  biographers  of  the  bird,  as  I  have  already 
hinted,  enlarge  upon  this  alleged  power;  in  fact,  it  is  not  mentioned 
at  all  by  them. 

In  his  admirable  "Birds  of  the  North-west,"  Dr.  Elliott  Coues  gives 
us  a  charming  account  of  the  bird,  dwelling  on  its  voice.  "  It  frequents 
shrubbery,"  he  writes,  "and  undergrowth  of  all  sorts,  where  it  hides  with 
great  pertinacity,  and  is  oftener  heard  than  seen.  Not  that  it  is  particularly 
a  timid  bird,  for  it  often  comes  about  the  gardens  and  out-houses ;  but  it 
is  retiring  and  unfamiliar,  courting  privacy  and  seclusion.  If  we  attempt 
to  penetrate  its  hidden  resorts,  it  hurries  away  into  deeper  recesses,  with 
a  low  fluttering  near  the  ground,  or  scrambling  and  hopping  from  one 
bush  to  another,  very  likely  mocking  us  with  its  rollicking  song  as  soon 
as  it  feels  perfectly  secure.  It  shares,  however,  the  restlessness  and  prying 
curiosity  of  its  tribe  ;  and  if  we  keep  still  in  a  favorable  spot  we  may  often 
see  it  returning  slyly  to  take  a  look  at  us,  peering  from  among  the  leaves 
with  an  inquisitive  air,  all  the  while  '  teetering'  its  body,  and  performing 
odd,  nervous  antics,  as  if  it  were  possessed  with  the  very  spirit  of  unrest. 
At  such  times  it  chatters  in  a  harsh,  querulous  tone,  as  if  resenting  the 
intrusion  ;  and  this  is  its  ordinary  note  when  angry,  alarmed,  or  otherwise 
disturbed  in  mind.  Its  song  is  quite  another  thing — loud,  clear,  strong, 
and  highly  musical ;  indeed,  I  hardly  know  what  bird  possesses  a  richer 
voice,  though  many  are  sweeter  songsters.  The  song  is  a  rapid  succession 
of  whistling  notes,  delivered  with  great  energy  and  accent;  it  closely 
resembles  that  of  the  cardinal  grosbeak,  styled  in  some  parts  the  Virginia 
nightingale,  and  meriting  the  compliment.  In  still  weather  the  wren  can 
be  heard  several  hundred  yards,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  trace  the  music  up  to 
its  source,  because  the  resonant  quality  of  the  notes  makes  the  whole  copse 
seem  to  ring  with  the  sound,  and  because  the  restless  songster  is  constantly 
changing  his  position." 

Of  the  many  men  who  have  given  us  "local  lists"  of  the  avifauna 
here  and  there  in  the  Southern  States  none  bring  forward  different  testi- 
mony. In  the  gathering  of  the  material  for  one  of  the  most  extended  of 


2±  NUTTALL'S  ACCOUNT  OF  WREN-MUSIC. 

these  pamphlets,  I  had  a  part :  I  refer  to  Mr.  William  Brewster's  paper  in 
the  "Annals"  of  the  Lyceum  of  Natural  History  of  New  York  City  (now 
the  Academy  of  Sciences),  vol.  xi.,  June,  1875,  pages  129-146,  on  birds 
observed  in  Kitchie  County,  West  Virginia.  The  memoranda  of  Mr. 
Brewster,  Mr.  Ruthven  Deane,  and  myself  (in  my  case  combined  with 
notes  made  during  previous  visits  to  the  same  locality)  were  united  in 
this  paper.  None  of  us  could  hear  any  mockery  in  the  little  bird's  vivid 
and  always  entertaining  concert,  from  which  the  cat-bird  was  not  slow  to 
enrich  his  plagiarized  repertory.  "  The  song  of  the  male,"  Mr.  Brewster 
recorded,  "is  a  beautifully  clear  and  pure  one,  but  it  is  so  always  and  in- 
variably the  same  [the  italics  are  mine]  that  one  soon  tires  of  it.  Heard 
in  some  deep,  silent  glen  or  ravine,  its  loudness  is  positively  startling,  the 
rocks  taking  up  and  flinging  back  the  sound  till  the  air  is  fairly  filled 
with  the  ringing  melody." 

Lastly,  in  an  extremely  interesting  paper  on  this  species,  contributed 
to  The  American  Naturalist  for  January,  1884,  Dr.  C.  C.  Abbott  de- 
scribes the  year's  life  of  one  of  these  wrens  that  took  up  its  abode  most 
familiarly  upon  his  farm  near  Trenton,  N.  J.  In  regard  to  its  voice, 
Dr.  Abbott  remarks :  "  Carefully  as  I  have  listened  to  this  wren  for  a 
year,  I  have  never  heard  a  note  that  I  should  consider  as  not  its  own, 
and  not  borrowed." 

Evidently  Thomas  Nuttall  is  responsible  for  this  wren's  reputation  as 
an  imitator:  " remarkable,  mimicking,  and  musical,"  he  calls  the  bird, 
and  devotes  nearly  the  whole  of  his  biography  to  a  graphic  representation 
of  the  wren's  striking  gifts  in  this  direction. 

By  means  of  those  queer  phonetic  syllables  of  which  Nuttall  was 
so  fond,  he  strives  to  describe  in  succession  the  way  in  which  the  bird 
recalls  the  kingfisher,  the  tufted  titmouse,  "his  industrious  neighbor  the 
ground-robin,"  the  "  tremulous  trill  of  the  pine-warbler,"  the  blackbird, 
and  several  others,  many  of  which  had  not  returned  from  the  far  South 
at  the  early  season  when  Nuttall  became  acquainted  with  our  subject; 
so  that,  as  he  says,  the  notes  "  would  appear  to  be  recollections  of  the  past 
season."  None  of  the  examples  given  are  more  than  a  few  notes  here 
and  there,  brief  snatches  of  the  songs  of  the  various  birds,  which,  I  should 
say,  were  suggested  rather  than  imitated ;  but  it  is  stated  that  once  the 
squalling  of  a  child  in  a  cottage  was  mimicked  by  a  wren  at  the  door. 
Let  me  quote  a  paragraph  from  Nuttall's  charming  story : 

"Amidst  these  imitations  arid  variations,  which  seem  almost  endless  arid 
lead  the  stranger  to  imagine  himself,  even  in  the  depth  of  winter,  surround- 
ed by  all  the  quaint  choristers  of  the  summer,  there  is  still,  with  our  capri- 


THE  CAROLINA  WREN  NOT  A  MOCKER.  25 

cious  and  tuneful  mimic,  a  favorite  theme  more  constantly  and  regularly 
repeated  than  the  rest. .  . .  This  sweet  and  melodious  ditty,  tsee-toot  tsee-toot 
tsee-toot^  and  sometimes  tsee-toot  tsee-toot  seet,  was  usually  uttered  in  a  some- 
what plaintive  or  tender  strain,  varied  at  each  repetition  with  the  most  de- 
lightful and  delicate  tones,  of  which  no  conception  can  be  formed  without 
experience.  ...  In  most  cases  it  will  be  remarked  that  the  phrases  of  our 
songster  are  uttered  in  3s ;  by  this  means  it  will  generally  be  practicable 
to  distinguish  its  performance  from  that  of  other  birds,  and  particularly 
from  the  cardinal  grosbeak,  whose  expressions  it  often  closely  imitates  both 
in  power  and  delivery.  I  shall  never,  I  believe,  forget  the  soothing  satis- 
faction and  amusement  I  derived  from  this  little  constant  and  unwearied 
minstrel,  my  sole  vocal  companion  through  many  weary  miles  of  a  vast, 
desolate,  and  otherwise  cheerless  wilderness.  Yet,  witli  all  his  readiness  to 
amuse  by  his  Protean  song,  the  epitome  of  all  he  had  ever  heard  or  recol- 
lected, he  was  still  studious  of  concealment,  keeping  busily  engaged  near 
the  ground,  or  in  low  thickets,  in  quest  of  food ;  and  when  he  mounted  a 
log  or  brush-pile,  which  he  had  just  examined,  his  color,  so  similar  to  the 
fallen  leaves  and  wintry  livery  of  nature,  often  prevented  me  from  gain- 
ing a  glimpse  of  this  wonderful  and  interesting  mimic." 

With  all  respect  to  Mr.  Nuttall,  I  cannot  but  believe  that  the  peculiar 
circumstances  under  which  he  listened  to  the  song  of  the  Carolina  wren 
influenced  his  imagination  too  strongly.  Undoubtedly,  one  may  hear  in 
its  loud  and  extremely  varied  nuptial  song  many  notes  that,  singly,  might 
suggest  the  elements  and  the  quality  of  the  songs  of  various  other  birds ; 
but  it  is  my  opinion  that  if  these  are  ever  voluntarily  produced  by  the 
bird  outside  of  its  own  native  song,  as  imitations,  the  instances  are  far  less 
rare  than  Mr.  NuttalPs  enthusiastic  and  sentimental  description  would 
have  us  believe.  The  song  of  the  wren  is  "  Protean,"  truly,  but,  gener- 
ally speaking,  I  do  not  believe  it  is  mimicry  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word. 

They  were  as  active  and  inquisitive — my  pair  of  Carolina  wrens — as 
any  of  their  excitable  race.  A  bridge  which  carried  one  railway  over  the 
tracks  of  another  formed  their  favorite  perch,  and  I  suspected  that  they 
had  their  nest  stuffed  into  some  cranny  among  its  braces,  but  I  could  not 
find  it,  and  it  may  have  been  behind  one  of  the  loose  clapboards  of  a 
tumbled-down  shanty  not  far  away.  While  I  was  searching,  the  wrens 
became  greatly  excited,  flitting  about  close  to  me  and  scolding  much  like 
angry  kittens.  "If  shot  at  and  missed,"  says  Brewster,  in  the  paper  I 
have  referred  to,  "  they  seemed  at  once  to  become  very  angry,  hopping 
nimbly  from  twig  to  twig  with  tail  erect,  and  uttering,  almost  incessantly, 


26 


THE  WREN'S  BIRD-COMPANIONS. 


THE  GREAT  CAROLINA  WREN. 


a  shrill  chirr-ree,  chir-r-r,  chir-r-r,  chirr-ree,  and  occasionally  a  harsh 
chatter." 

Evidently  the  small  songsters  enjoy  hugely  what  they  do,  and  you  can 
fairly  see  the  notes  bubble  out  of  their  swelling  gray  bosoms,  like  water 

in  a  spring.  Audubon's  picture  of 
one  of  them,  standing  with  out- 
stretched head  and  bulging  throat, 
always  seemed  an  exaggeration  until 
I  saw  the  living  bird.  I  do  not 
know  a  louder  singer  than  this  wren, 
notwithstanding  his  diminutive  form  ; 
indeed,  size  has  nothing  to  do  with 
power  of  voice  in  birds — witness  the 
noisy  music  of  the  pigmy  kinglets. 

They  have  long,  curved  bills, 
serviceable  in  picking  insects  out  of 
crannies  about  old  wood -work,  and 
out  of  the  bark  of  trees  or  off  the 

ground  and  leaves.  I  never  saw  one  of  them  catch  an  insect  on  the 
wing,  and  I  fancy  their  fare  is  mainly  made  up  of  a  variety  of  helpless 
grubs. 

Here  were  robins,  too. 

It  is  one  of  the  good  points  of  the  robin  that  he  sings  when  the  weather 
is  cloudy  rather  more  than  during  sunshine,  and  you  hear  all  day  the  fine 
music  which  in  cloudless  weather  he  reserves  for  the  evening  time  of 
shadows.  Two  or  three  of  them  were  now  tuneful  in  an  orchard  near  me, 
and  once  in  a  while  I  would  catch  sight  of  a  meadow-lark  or  a  grass-finch 
hovering  uncertainly  over  the  sodden  fields,  as  though  disliking  to  drop 
into  the  wet  grass.  From  the  woods,  half  a  mile  away,  came  the  cawing 
of  crows  and  the  complaint  of  a  very  melancholy  dove  indeed — a  mourn- 
ful croon  which  many  persons  mistake  for  that  of  an  owl.  Down  in  the 
ditch  beside  the  track  an  orange  -  vested  barn -swallow  was  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  moist  condition  of  the  soil  to  gather  mud  for  his  nest 
somewhere  in  the  neighborhood.  Some  of  this  he  rolled  with  his  bill 
into  little  pellets  for  the  "bricks"  of  his  structure;  some  he  kneaded 
with  bits  of  grass  into  small  lumps,  which  he  carried  away  grasped  in  his 
claws. 

Occasionally  an  azure  spot  against  the  leaden  sky  showed  a  blue-bird 
sitting  silently  overhead,  and  I  thought  of  Mrs.  Whitney's  poem,  begin- 
ning, 


THE  PUGNACITY  OF  SMALL  BIRDS.  27 

"  Little  birds  sit  on  the  telegraph  wires, 

And  chitter  and  flitter  and  fold  their  wings  ; 
And  perhaps  they  think  that  for  them  and  their  sires 
Stretched  always  on  purpose  these  wonderful  strings." 

Between  the  showers  one  of  those  royal  fellows,  the  king-bird  (which 
Southern  people  call  "  bee  -  martins "),  came  over  the  fields  with  a  self- 
confident  swing  in  his  flight,  arid  alighted  on  a  sapling.  He  had  stood 
there  not  a  minute  —  no,  not  half  a  minute  —  when  up  sprang  my  two 
wrens  from  their  perch  on  the  highest  beam  of  the  bridge,  and  dashed 
at  him  like  little  furies.  The  surprise  and  impetuosity  of  that  attack 
was  too  much  for  him,  and  though  he  asserted  that  more  than  once  he 
had  driven  the  mighty  eagle  to  find  safety  in  the  clouds,  yet  these  little 
tormentors  upset  his  courage,  and  he  fled  as  fast  as  his  wings  could  carry 
him.  The  wrens,  still  unsatisfied,  rushed  after,  and  I  could  hear  the  sharp 
snipping  of  their  bills,  like  the  quick  shutting  of  scissors.  It  must  have 
sounded  very  terrible  indeed  to  the  poor  king-bird,  for  the  pursuers  kept 
close  to  his  ears  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do. 

It  seems  to  be  almost  a  law  among  birds  that  their  "  spirit "  is  in  direct 
proportion  to  their  littleness.  Warblers,  kinglets,  and  wrens  are  all  plucky 
and  pugnacious,  while  the  daring  courage  of  hummingbirds  has  often  been 
marked  with  surprise  by  those  who  have  studied  them.  They  will  fight 
anything  whatever  that  interferes  with  them,  and  dart  with  such  lightning 
rapidity  at  the  object  of  their  hatred,  picking  at  the  eyes  with  their 
needle-like  beaks,  that  they  drive  away  the  enemy  by  small  but  persistent 
torments  as  effectually  as  if  they  did  it  by  force.  Nor  is  this  a  useless 
quality  in  the  least  of  the  feathered  host,  for  he  has  to  defend  his  home 
quite  as  often,  probably,  as  his  larger  associates. 

In  the  case  of  many  of  the  hummingbirds,  the  nest  is  tucked  into 
a  little  bag  formed  by  folding  over  the  edges  near  the  point  of  a  long, 
drooping  leaf.  This  makes  them  inaccessible  to  most  enemies,  and  very 
secure.  Other  species  place  their  homes  in  a  crotch  of  a  bush  between 
upright  twigs  ;  while  the  ruby-throat — the 

"Bright  little,  light  little,  slight  little  hummer, 
Lover  of  sunshine  and  lover  of  summer," 

who  visits  the  "odorous  bowers"  of  our  northern  greenhouses  and  gar- 
dens— constructs  a  cup  of  vegetable  shreds,  matted  and  glued  together, 
with  a  downy  bed  within,  and  saddles  it  upon  the  upper  side  of  a  limb  of 
some  orchard  or  forest  tree.  Only  about  twice  as  large  as  a  thimble, 
and  covered  with  wood-lichens  and  bits  of  green  moss,  it  looks  so  very 


28  "FASCINATION"  AND  THE  BASILISK. 

much  like  an  old  knot,  or  scar,  or  excrescence  on  the  bark,  that  few  per- 
sons— provided  they  caught  sight  of  it  at  all — would  think  of  its  being 
the  home  of  a  bird,  unless  they  happened  to  espy  the  owner  entering  or 
leaving  it. 

But  in  spite  of  the  great  care  with  which  this  tiny  dwelling  is  hidden, 
snakes'  sharp  eyes  sometimes  find  it,  as  they  do  the  nests  of  almost  all 
other  birds,  and  they  stealthily  crawl  out  on  the  bending  branches,  grasp- 
ing stronger  ones  with  their  tails,  lest  the  slenderer  supports  should  break, 
until  they  are  able  to  devour  the  callow  young,  or  to  suck  the  eggs. 

Frequent  contests  between  birds  and  serpents,  in  which  the  reptile 
sometimes  comes  off  victor,  and  afterwards  eats  the  bird,  have  given  rise 
to  a  widespread  notion  that  the  snake's  eye  has  a  singular  and  irresistible 
influence  over  most  small  birds,  causing  them,  in  spite  of  every  effort, 
to  draw  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  fall  senseless  into  the  reptile's  open 
jaws.  It  has  even  been  said  that  our  common  blacksnake  "draws"  cat- 
birds down  from  the  tops  of  tall  trees  to  certain  death,  by  a  charm  which 
they  had  no  power  to  break ;  and  other  incidents,  equally  hard  to  believe, 
are  told  of  the  fascination  of  a  serpent's  eye.  The  older  these  tales  are, 
the  more  they  savor  of  the  marvellous;  for  they  began  to  be  believed 
long  before  any  books  were  written.  At  last  the  ancient  poets  imagined 
an  animal  called  the  basilisk,  or  the  cockatrice,  as  it  is  translated  in  the 
Bible.  They  described  it  as  born  from  an  egg  laid  by  a  very  old  cock, 
and  hatched  by  a  reptile.  In  general  shape  this  fabulous  animal  was 
like  a  chameleon ;  but  it  had  a  head  and  eight  feet  like  a  cock,  and  short 
wings  on  its  shoulders.  Its  very  presence  was  fatal  to  all  other  animals, 
including  man ;  its  breath  poisoned  the  air,  and  its  glance  was  death. 
Presently  sceptics  began  to  deny,  one  by  one,  these  malignant  powers, 
since  few  fatal  cases  could  actually  be  traced  to  that  source,  until  at  last 
the  basilisk  was  bereft  of  all  except  the  fabulous  power  to  lure  any  ani- 
mal to  destruction  by  the  fascination  of  its  glittering  eye.  This  idea  sur- 
vives even  to  this  day.  People  who  believe  that  the  really  rather  dull 
eye  of  the  blacksnake,  or  rattlesnake,  or  tiny  grass-snake  can  charm  an 
active  bird  into  dropping  into  its  jaws,  could  have  believed  easily  in  the 
griffins  and  harpies,  coquetting  sirens,  and  incombustible  phoenixes  of  the 
old  Greeks. 

At  the  same  time  there  is  a  grain  of  truth  in  each  of  these  marvellous 
tales  of  imaginary  animals  and  their  deadly  qualities.  The  bird  knows 
perfectly  well  the  danger  which  lies  in  getting  too  near  that  gently  wav- 
ing head,  with  its  gleaming  scales  and  flaming  tongue;  it  knows  the 
power  of  that  snake  to  spring  at  it  and  strike  it  a  fatal  blow;  and  the 


STUPEFACTION  THROUGH  FRIGHT. 


29 


•"••• 


mere  presence  of  the  terrible  danger  might  be  so  attractive  to  the 
that  it  would  venture  too  near,  and  so  fall  a  prey  to  its  recklessness, 
of  danger  for  its  own  sake  is  certainly  a  character- 
istic of  many  men,  and  some  do  not  seem  able  to 
resist   encountering   the  greatest   risk,  and   doing 
themselves    positive   harm,  for   no   reason    except 
that   they  have  a  good  opportunity.     Many  per- 
sons  commit  suicide,  doubtless,  under  the   same 
strange  longing  to  throw  one's  self  off  some  pre- 
cipice, or  into  deep  water,  which  most  of  us  have 
felt  when  standing  on  the  top  of  a  big  building, 
or  close  to  swift  and  turbulent  rapids,  like  those 
at  Niagara. 

It  may  be  that  the  fearful  peril — and  there 
is  no  danger  a  bird  can  better  appre- 


bird 
Love 


THE  RETREAT  OF  THE  TOWHEE. 


ciate — stupefies  and  turns  the  heads  of  the 

birds  until,  often,  they  commit  suicide.     But 

this  is  not  caused  by  any  "  fascination  "  from 

the  eyes  of  the  snake;  for  when  a  heronry 

catches  fire,  or  a  house  is  burning  upon  which 

storks  have  built  their  nests,  the  poor  owners 

will  fly  round  and  round  in  the  smoke  and  flame,  as  though  they  found 

it  impossible  to  leave  the  spot,  until  they  fall  dead ;  and  sometimes  when 


30  THE   PRINCE   OF  SKULKERS. 

the  Carolina  marshes  are  flooded  by  gales  driving  the  water  in-shore,  the 
rails  will  seem  to  become  perfectly  crazy,  and  insensible  of  all  other 
harm,  through  their  anxiety  for  the  safety  of  their  homes.  Bnt  I  need 
not  dwell  longer  on  this  topic  here,  since  it  is  fully  discussed  in  an  en- 
suing chapter  on  the  rattlesnake. 

In  general,  snakes  have  little  the  best  of  it  in  a  fight  with  their  feath- 
ered foes.  More  than  once,  it  has  been  asserted,  a  single  pair  of  mock- 
ingbirds has  killed  a  large  blacksnake  that  had  insinuated  itself  into  the 
bush  in  which  their  home  was  situated.  Whenever  the  ngly  reptile  is  so 
discovered,  the  male  mocker  darts  upon  it  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow, 
dexterously  eluding  its  bite,  and  striking  it  violently  and  incessantly  about 
the  head.  The  snake  soon  perceives  its  danger,  and  seeks  to  escape ;  but 
the  intrepid  father  redoubles  his  exertions,  and  even  after  the  snake  has 
reached  the  ground,  and  its  strength  begins  to  flag,  the  mockingbird 
seizes  it,  and  lifting  it  partly  from  the  ground,  beats  it  to  death  with  his 
wings.  Cat-birds  and  brown  thrashers  will  protect  their  nests,  and  deal 
vengeance  upon  the  robber  in  the  same  fashion. 

Just  as  I  was  turning  back,  a  snarling  tow-wee  struck  my  ear  with 
startling  distinctness  from  a  half-ruined  fence  where  ferns  and  golden-rod 
were  graciously  entwining  their  lovely  plumes.  This  noisy  finch  is  the 
prince  of  skulkers,  keeping  ever  under  piles  of  brush  and  fallen  trees, 
about  the  roots  of  the  densest  thickets,  scratching  furiously  among  the 
crisp  dead  leaves  for  the  luckless  worms  and  bugs  that  lurk  there,  or 
the  seeds  which  have  rattled  down.  It  is  very  strange  to  sit  quietly  down 
where  the  underbrush  is  thick,  and  listen  to  the  swamp-robins.  Their 
wings  do  not  make  the  audible  flutter  of  the  sparrows,  arid  you  only  hear 
a  little  stirring  here  and  there  that  you  cannot  at  all  tell  the  sense  of  till 
the  bird  shows  himself,  silent,  but  alert,  and  full  of  curiosity,  venturing 
closer  and  closer  with  an  unconscious,  preoccupied  air  which  is  intended 
to  disguise  his  extreme  interest  in  you.  Meanwhile  you  can  easily  note 
what  a  handsome  fellow  he  is.  His  head  and  throat  all  around,  back, 
wings,  and  long  tail  are  black,  the  wing  quills  tipped,  and  the  tail  broadly 
edged,  with  white;  the  sides,  meeting  on  the  breast,  are  bright  bay,  which 
on  the  belly  and  vent  becomes  rufous-white.  In  the  female  the  black  is 
replaced  by  light  reddish-brown. 

Nearly  as  large  as  a  robin,  and  red -breasted,  he  is  often  called  the 
"swamp"  or  "ground"  robin.  The  western  name,  "skunk  blackbird," 
alludes  to  his  varicolored  coat;  "chewink,"  "towhee,"  "  joree,"  and  simi- 
lar words  are  derived  from  his  call,  never  heard  except  when  he  is  upon 
the  ground;  while  the  technical  name  is  Pipilo  erythropthalmus. 


SPRING  ECSTASY  OF  THE  TOWHEE.  31 

I  have  called  him  a  skulker,  but  when  comes  the  "harvest -time  of 
love  "  he  mounts  to  the  top  of  some  towering  tree  and  sings,  ecstatically — 

"  A  song  of  joy,  a  song  of  bliss, 
Passionate  notes  that  clasp  and  kiss. " 

It  is  a  delicate  tune,  and  all  the  more  so  that  we  hear  it  during  only 
a  short  season,  though  it  is  performed  for  hours  together,  almost  without 
cessation,  during  the  time  of  his  wooing,  and  is  always  given  from  a 
tree-top — never  from  the  ground. 

Soon  the  shy  mate  responds,  and  the  pair  sink  happily  into  some 
thicket  to  finish  their  courting.  There,  late  in  May,  they  go  together 
in  search  of  a  home.  The  site  chosen  is  usually  the  bank  of  a  stream, 
or  a  wet  place  in  the  woods,  where  they  have  the  company  of  water- 
thrushes,  ground-warblers,  and  swamp-sparrows;  and  the  large,  comfort- 
able nest  is  cunningly  concealed  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  a  little  brier, 
or  under  a  shelving  rock,  where  we  should  never  find  it  except  by  one  of 
those  lucky  accidents  which  the  successful  ornithologist  learns  how  to 
induce.  The  eggs  are  somewhat  larger  than  a  bluebird's,  porcelain  white, 
spotted  everywhere  with  reddish-brown,  but  chiefly  in  a  wreath  round  the 
large  end. 

The  chewinks  stay  with  us  till  the  middle  of  October,  and  then  move 
slowly  south,  the  females  and  young  going  first,  contrary  to  advance  in 
the  spring,  when  the  males  are  ahead.  Audubon  remarks  that  the  migra- 
tion is  performed  by  day,  from  bush  to  bush,  and  that  they  seem  to  be 
much  at  a  loss  when  a  large  extent  of  forest  is  to  be  traversed. 

I  have  let  my  pen  run  away  now  and  then  from  the  straight  line  of 
the  rails  along  which  I  walked ;  but  these  are  some  of  the  things  I  saw, 
and  the  thoughts  they  suggested  while  I  was  waiting  for  that  belated 
train  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  The  hours  had  passed  quickly  to  me, 
though  I  heard  plenty  of  grumbling  from  fellow-passengers,  who  knew 
not  my  good  friends  in  the  thickets.  When  at  last  we  embarked, 
and  rushed  past  the  old  bridge  and  weedy  bank,  it  was  to  me  alone,  I 
fancied,  the  full-throated  wren,  high  on  his  perch,  was  singing  a  gay 
good-speed,  and  the  chewinks  nodded  their  cheering  "ta-tas." 


III. 

THE  LEAST  OF  THE  MAMMALS. 

LIFTING  up  a  large,  flat  stone  at  the  edge  of  a  piece  of  woods,  in 
search  of  snails,  not  long  ago,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  small  dun- 
colored  animal,  not  much  larger  than  my  thumb,  which  darted  away  in 
precipitate  alarm,  uttering  a  squeaking  cry.  The  ground  under  the  stone 
showed  a  net-work  of  little  troughs  or  channels,  meeting  in  a  larger  ave- 
nue at  the  centre.  Down  one  of  these,  which  at  the  distance  of  a  few 
inches  disappeared  in  a  tunnel  under  the  matted  leaves  and  herbage,  the 
tiny  quadruped  scampered  to  some  safe  retreat  beneath  the  roots  of  a 
beech.  I  made  a  catch  at  him,  and,  though  I  missed  him,  saw  that  he 
was  a  shrew — a  scion  of  the  ancient  lineage  of  Soricidse. 

These  smallest  of  all  the  great  company  of  mammals  conceal  them- 
selves from  the  student  with  true  coquetry,  baffling  nearly  all  his  efforts 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  them.  Nevertheless  they  are  widespread,  numerous, 
and  sometimes  familiar,  occasionally  making  their  home  in  the  wall  of  a 
house-cellar  or  about  the  barn. 

In  color  and  form  the  shrew  suggests  a  house-mouse,  but  his  nose  and 
teeth  declare  him  of  the  entirely  different  race  of  Insectivora — a  com- 
panion to  "  the  moles  and  the  bats."  No  part  of  the  world  (save,  possibly, 
South  America)  seems  to  lack  representatives  of  the  shrew  family,  but  its 
stronghold  is  in  northern  regions.  America  owns  a  dozen  or  so  doubt- 
fully defined  species,  grouped  by  Coues  into  three  genera — Neosorex,  So- 
rex,  and  Blarina.  In  the  first  the  feet  are  fimbriate,  and  the  tail  equals 
or  exceeds  the  head  and  body  in  length ;  the  second  genus  has  ordinary 
feet,  and  a  tail  shorter  than  the  head  and  body ;  the  third  lacks  visible 
ears,  and  has  a  very  short  tail.  To  Blarina  belong  the  greater  number 
of  American  shrews,  and  the  most  diminutive — some  full-grown  speci- 
mens, tail  and  all,  measuring  less  than  two  and  a  half  inches  in  length. 
The  bulk  of  body  in  the  largest  member  of  the  family  would  not  greatly 
excel  this  pygmy,  though  the  long  tails  of  Neosorex  unfairly  increase 
comparisons  in  respect  to  length. 


WIDE   RANGE   OF   THE   SHREW  FAMILY.  33 

The  whole  shape  and  organization  of  these  little  creatures  show  that 
they  live  in  burrows.  The  proboscis-like  nose — cartilaginous,  tough,  and 
flexible — is  fit  for  probing  without  injury  into  all  sorts  of  crannies,  and 
for  forcing  a  way  through  leaves,  tangled  grass,  and  loose  soil.  The  feet, 
nevertheless,  though  compact  and  strong,  are  not  modified  into  such  a 


BLARINA— THE   SHORT-TAILED   SHREW. 

combination  of  pick  and  shovel  as  the  moles  carry,  but  are  mouse-like. 
The  shrew's  theory  of  life  is  based  upon  great  humility,  and  it  is  only  by 
accident  that  one  is  ever  seen  alive;  ''restricted  to  a  little  world  of  their 
own,  best  suited  to  their  habits  and  enjoyment,  they  almost  present  a  bar- 
rier to  the  pryiug  curiosity  of  man." 

Yet  they  frequent  all  sorts  of  country,  and  readily  adapt  themselves 
to  widely  varying  conditions,  since  their  food  is  universally  distributed; 
and,  having  always  an  underground  refuge  from  extremes  of  heat  or  cold, 
they  have  acquired  an  independence  of  temperature  belonging  to  few 
other  wild  mammals.  Possibly  this  adaptability  has  counted  in  preserv- 
ing the  stability  of  type,  which  has  come  down  with  little  change  since 
its  first  introduction  in  the  Miocene  Age.  Though  common  in  the  rice 
and  cotton  fields  of  the  far  South,  they  occur  upon  our  highest  mountains, 
and  reach  far  towards  the  North-pole.  One  or  two  American  species  are 
semiaquatic  in  their  habits,  but  less  so  than  are  some  of  the  Old  World 
soricidse. 

Forests  and  prairies  alike  are  haunted  by  the  shrews,  which  do  not 
avoid  civilized  districts,  carrying  on  their  secret  service  regardless  of 
man's  pretensions  to  royalty,  and  doing  so  all  the  more  easily  because 
they  work  at  night.  In  the  moist  woods  of  the  South  and  West  you  can 
hardly  turn  over  a  log  or  old  fence -rail  which  shall  not  exhibit  under- 
neath it  a  main  passage-way  and  many  side-tracks  traversed  by  these  small 

3 


34:  SENSITIVENESS   OF  THE   SHREW. 

pioneers  in  search  of  their  food,  such  dark  places  serving  them  as  a  sort 
of  market.  When  they  leave  the  shelter  of  logs  and  bowlders,  they  very 
rarely  step  out  into  daylight — however  often  they  may  go  abroad  upon 
the  surface  during  their  nocturnal  rambles — but  move  under  cover  of  the 
leaves  and  bending  herbage,  pressing  them  aside,  or,  if  the  earth  be  loose, 
descending  and  tunnelling  through  it  for  long  distances,  until  innumer- 
able slender  galleries  are  formed.  These  galleries  open  to  the  surface  at 
frequent  intervals,  and  in  certain  favored  spots  the  loam  and  matted  pas- 
sage will  be  found  to  be  permeated  by  a  perfect  labyrinth  of  them.  They 
are  not  dug,  but  the  mould  is  pushed  aside,  the  pointed  snout  and  nim- 
ble toes  of  the  miner  making  an  entrance  into  which  the  powerful  little 
shoulders  push  along  with  surprising  speed. 

Through  this  kind  of  life  the  eyes  of  the  shrews  have  become  reduced 
to  mere  black  dots,  less  than  those  of  the  bat,  hidden  in  the  soft,  thick, 
water-proof  fur,  and  they  are  of  small  or  no  use  as  organs  of  vision  ;  the 
external  ear,  too,  has  been  worn  and  flattened  -in  the  course  of  generations 
of  rubbing  until  it  has  almost  disappeared,  what  there  is  left  of  the  au- 
ricle being  directed  backward,  since  danger  from  the  rear  is  most  to  be 
apprehended  in  the  tunnels,  and  the  delicate  sense  of  touch  in  the  unu- 
sually long  whiskers  and  facile  snout  guards  well  in  front.  The  superior 
sensitiveness  to  touch  and  sound  of  animals  living  underground  is  \vell 
known,  and  is  a  natural  consequence  of  loss  of  the  opportunity  (finally 
resulting  in  loss  of  power)  of  sight ;  the  mole  is  an  extreme  example  of 
this,  and  it  is  the  shrew's  strongest  safeguard.  Hearing  and  feeling  the 
jar  of  danger,  it  hides  and  keeps  silent.  One  careful  naturalist*  relates 
how  a  shrew  that  he  held  in  his  hand  would  start  with  a  quick  spasm  of 
fear  at  every  discharge  of  some  guns  over  a  mile  away,  although  the 
sound  was  so  muffled  as  scarcely  to  be  audible  to  the  human  ear.  A  slight 
agitation  of  the  air  in  its  vicinity  is  enough  to  alarm  it. 

Probably  this  animal  trusts  chiefly  to  touch  in  choosing  and  captur- 
ing its  food.  This  consists  of  slugs,  earthworms,  and  all  sorts  of  insects, 
with  their  larvae;  young  mice,  frogs,  snails;  eggs,  and  fledglings  of 
ground-building  birds;  grain  and  seeds.  Carrion,  also,  is  an  important 
resource  to  it  (traps  may  be  baited  with  beef) ;  and  Godman  says  that 
he  has  found  shrews  rooting  in  the  barn-yard  ordure  like  little  pigs.  It  is 
extremely  expert  in  the  water,  darting  over  the  surface  and  diving  to  the 
bottom  with  the  greatest  agility;  therefore,  many  small  aquatic  animals 
fall  victims  to  the  lowland  species,  especially  of  Neosorex. 

*  Henry  Gillman,  American  Naturalist,  vol.  x.,  p.  430: 


PROVIDING  AGAINST  A  SNOWY  DAY. 


35 


A'>>svUcx      - L 


SKULL  OF  A  SHREW  (MAGNIFIED),  SHOWING  CHARAC- 
TER OF  THE  TEETH. 

a,  upper  jaw  and  cranium;  b,  lower  jaw;  c,  under  side  of  skull, 
natural  size. 


For  the  pursuit  of  this  food  the  dental  apparatus  is  well  designed. 
The  head  is  long  and  narrow,  but  the  jaws  large  and  powerful.     There 
are  twenty-eight  to  thirty-two  teeth  (varying  in  different  species),  which 
are  strong,  and  colored  at 
the    points;     the    forward 
ones     are     recurved,     and 
armed  with  cutting  edges ; 
and  no  worm  is  so  slippery, 
no  beetle  so   well    armed, 
that  the  shrew  cannot  seize, 
and  hold,  and  crush  it. 

The  storehouse  of  the 
shrew  may  be  placed  in 
the  interior  of  a  heap  of 
stones,  beneath  a  great  log 
or  in  a  decayed  stump;  but 
it  is  generally  a  burrow, 
made  a  foot  or  so  under- 
ground. If  the  owner  is 
of  aquatic  habits  it  will 

have  an  entrance  in  the  bank  of  a  stream  below  the  usual  water-level ; 
but  among  upland  shrews,  like  Blarina,  it  is  reached  by  the  ramifying 
tunnels.  In  and  adjacent  to  these  winter-quarters,  larders,  chiefly  of 
seeds,  are  provided  against  a  snowy  day.  A  surplus  of  insects  may  be 
treasured  also.  Audubon  and  Bachman  mention  that  in  one  of  the  gal- 
leries of  the  Carolina  shrew  they  found  "a  small  cavity  containing  a 
hoard  of  coleopterous  insects  ,  .  .  fully  the  size  of  the  animal  itself; 
some  of  them  were  nearly  consumed,  and  the  rest  mutilated,  although 
living."  It  is  hard  to  believe  the  wise  little  miners  did  not  know  what 
they  were  about  when  they  left  their  meat-stores  "  on  the  hoof,"  as  it  were, 
instead  of  killing  the  insects,  and  running  the  risk  of  their  almost  certain 
decay. 

Even  in  the  coldest  weather  of  the  arctic  winter  this  feeblest  of  the 
mammals  seems  never  to  become  torpid. 

On  fine  days  he  climbs  up  the  little  chimneys  made  about  the  sway- 
ing stems  of  a  sapling  or  plant-stalk,  and  seeks  wild  grains  above  the 
snow,  leaving  an  embroidery  of  tiny  tracks.  As  for  the  frost,  he  is  able 
to  generate  so  much  heat  in  his  compact  and  warmly  clothed  little  frame 
that  temperature,  ranging  even  for  long  periods  below  zero,  does  not  seem 
to  trouble  him  at  all.  Doubtless,  like  the  half  hibernating  mice,  he  makes 


36  THE   SHREW'S  FIDELITY  AND  COURAGE. 

runways  under  the  snow,  and  picks  up  softened  seeds  and  dormant  insects 
almost  as  conveniently  as  in  midsummer. 

In  these  winter  burrows,  which  seem  to  be  placed  deeper  underground 
in  northern  than  in  milder  latitudes,  a  ball -like  nest  is  constructed  of 
leaves,  grass  -  blades,  and  fibrous  roots,  in  which,  as  spring  approaches, 
four  to  six  young  are  born,  naked  and  blind.  The  late  Dr.  G.  Lincecum 
had  several  families  of  shrews  in  captivity,  and  learned  that  the  young 
remained  blind  until  they  were  half-grown.  The  father  assisted  in  their 
care,  bringing  home  grasshoppers  and  crickets  to  the  nursing  mother; 
and  all  the  actions  of  the  married  pair  indicated  affection  and  caressing 
kindness.  The  end  of  this  family  of  pets  was  distressing.  The  male 
escaped,  whereupon  another  pair  of  captive  shrews,  making  their  way  into 
the  box  where  the  unguarded  family  was  domiciled,  killed  and  ate  not 
only  the  little  ones,  but  the  widowed  mother  also. 

This  incident  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  ferocity  of  the  shrew 
character.  Like  the  kinglet  and  hummingbird,  who,  though  pygmies 
.among  their  kind,  begin  and  end  a  fight  with  .an  impetuous  fury  no  eagle 
vCould  exceed,  this  diminutive  quadruped  feels  that  he  has  courage  as  big 
as  a  lion's.  It  is  rare  that  two  strangers  meet  without  a  battle.  Caged 
specimens  exhibit  the  greatest  pugnacity.  A  touch  irritates  them,  and 
they  will  leap  at  a  stick  in  comical  rage,  snapping  and  crying  out  angrily. 
Robert  Kennicott  put  into  a  cage  with  a  short-tailed  shrew  a  meadow- 
mouse  (Arvicola)  twice  its  size,  which  at  once  attacked  its  small  neighbor ; 
but  if  the  mouse  anticipated  an  easy  victory  it  was  mistaken.  The  little 
knight  of  the  burrow  stood  straight  up  and  fought  fiercely;  and  if  it 
did  not  pursue  its  adversary  when  the  latter  moved  off,  neither  did  it 
ever  retreat,  but  the  instant  the  mouse  came  close  again,  sprang  at  him, 
guided,  apparently,  wholly  by  hearing  and  touch.  This  courage  will 
explain  how  the  small  creature  can  attack  and  conquer  frogs  and  other 
animals  far  larger  than  itself,  as,  according  to  European  writers,  it  is  well 
known  to  do. 

The  activity  of  the  shrew  is  marked.  When  one  is  surprised  under 
a  log,  or  turned  up  by  the  plough,  it  gets  out  of  sight  with  astonishing 
celerity.  In  this  headlong  rush  the  long  and  extremely  sensitive  whiskers 
do  the  work  of  the  deficient  sight,  so  that  when  at  full  speed  it  will  turn 
aside  just  before  reaching  an  object  against  which  it  seemed  just  about 
to  strike,  and  which  certainly  had  not  been  seen. 

A  shrew  dislikes  to  cross  an  open  space,  or  go  out  of  shelter  and  shad- 
ow. This  action  is  prompted  by  the  timidity  which,  paradoxically,  seems 
quite  as  phenomenally  developed  in  the  shrew  as  its  courage.  A  gentle- 


ENEMIES  OF  THE   SORICID^E.  37 

man  in  Michigan  caught  one  very  tenderly  and  folded  it  in  his  handker- 
chief; it  died  before  he  got  home.  Yerplanck  Colvin,  of  the  Adirondack 
survey,  took  one  in  midwinter  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Edwards,  and 
saw  it  expire  in  his  hands,  although  hardy  enough  to  endure  the  rigors  of 
that  weather.  I  once  found  one  in  my  mess-kit  while  on  a  camping  trip 
in  the  Catskills;  placed  in  a  box  without  handling,  it  was  dead  in  the 
morning.  In  each  case,  I  have  no  doubt,  the  shrews  were  frightened  to 
death.  It  is  extremely  difficult  to  keep  them  alive  in  captivity. 


NEOSOREX — THE    LONG-TAILED   SHREW. 


Their  enemies  are  legion,  but  they  have  the  satisfaction  in  many 
cases — if  they  appreciate  it — of  knowing  that  their  capture  is  of  no  benefit 
to  the  enemy.  Weasels,  skunks,  foxes,  cats,  dogs,  and  various  serpents, 
besides  hawks,  shrikes,  flesh-eating  ducks  (like  the  merganser),  and  espe- 
cially the  owls,  all  pursue  the  shrew  for  food ;  but  most  of  them  refuse 
to  eat  it  after  it  has  been  struck  down,  for  it  carries  in  a  gland  on 
each  side  a  musky  exudation,  which  gives  forth  an  odor  and  taste  so 
disagreeable  that  most  animals  turn  away  in  disgust.  This  accounts  for 
part,  no  doubt,  of  the  many  dead  shrews  seen  lying  in  the  woods  and 
fields,  by  those  whose  eyes  are  intent  upon  noticing  matters  so  small. 
The  fright  I  have  spoken  of  may  account  for  another  share  of  these  cases ; 
and  in  extremely  dry  seasons  many  shrews  no  doubt  starve  to  death,  be- 
cause the  earthworms  and  other  terrestrial  insects  have  descended  into 
the  subsoil  after  moisture,  or  fled  farther  than  the  shrew  can  follow 
them. 

The  utility  of  the  scent  in  these  glands  (which  is  stronger  in  the 
males  than  in  the  females,  and  more  copious  at  certain  seasons  than  at 
others)  is  believed  to  be  as  a  guide  and  attraction  between  the  sexes  in 
their  underground  wooings,  where  some  other  sense  must  be  appealed  to 
than  that  of  sight — or  common-sense !  But  the  good  purpose  it  might 
serve  Sorex  if,  when  hard  pressed,  he  could  emit  enough  of  it  to  disgust 


38  ERRORS   AND  FABLES   ABOUT   SHREWS. 

his  pursuer  into  giving  up  the  chase,  is  denied  him  ;  for  by  the  time  puss 
finds  out  that  her  prey  is  not  a  toothsome,  grain-fattened  mouse,  the  fatal 
stroke  has  been  dealt. 

A  similar  mistake  causes  the  death  of  many  an  innocent  shrew  at  the 
hands  of  the  farmer,  who  should  be  zealous  to  preserve  them.  Their  in- 
satiable voracity  is  all  for  his  benefit,  since  it  is  directed  chiefly  towards 
the  grubs  and  beetles,  borers,  weevils,  and  other  pests  of  orchard  and 
farm.  This  pursuit  of  insects  lurking  at  the  roots  of  his  cherished  plants 
goes  on  ceaselessly  and  vigilantly  all  the  year  round,  and  there  is  no  one 
of  the  list  of  animals  that  should  be  more  carefully  protected  than  the 
shrew,  unless  it  may  be  his  cousin  the  mole. 

I  have  not  attempted  in  this  article  to  go  beyond  the  biography  of 
our  own  American  shrews.  Those  of  Europe  and  Asia  are  better  known, 
and  would  furnish  a  longer  essay.  The  name  "shrew"  comes  to  us  from 
the  Anglo-Saxon  scredwa — "  a  biter."  The  other  epithet-word  shrew,  ap- 
plied to  scolding  humanity,  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  etymologically ; 
but  when  we  think  of  the  sharp  face,  the  purblind  eye,  the  poking  dispo- 
sition, and  the  rasping,  high-pitched  voice  of  the  diminutive  quadruped, 
not  to  speak  of  the  hot  temper  and  needle-teeth,  a  parallel  is  certainly 
suggested. 

A  ridiculous  fable  has  attached  to  this  little  animal  in  the  north  of 
Europe  from  time  immemorial,  that  it  maliciously  bites  and  poisons  cattle, 
whence  its  name  of  "  venomous  mouse"  in  several  languages.  The  name 
by  which  the  animal  is  known  among  the  French  peasantry  is  musaraigne. 
In  this  it  is  easy  to  see  the  derivation  from  the  Latin  mus  araneus ;  and 
the  explanation  is,  that  the  bite  of  the  shrew  was  formerly  considered  as 
poisonous  as  that  of  the  spider  was  supposed  to  be. 

I  had  hoped  this  had  not  been  imported;  but  I  find  in  Dr.  E.  Em- 
mons's  Report  upon  the  Quadrupeds  of  Massachusetts,  published  in  1840, 
that  in  that  State  the  farmers  had,  at  that  time  at  least,  so  strong  a  preju- 
dice against  these  animals  that  they  killed  them  at  every  opportunity. 
"  If  a  shrew,"  they  told  Dr.  Einmons,  "  should  run  over  the  leg  of  a  cow 
or  horse  while  reposing  in  the  grass,  it  would  cause  lameness." 


IV. 

BIRDS  OF  THE  BROOKSIDE. 

THE  pleasantest  of  all  my  walks  leads  me  along  the  banks  of  a  rural 
stream,  where  animals  of  the  land,  the  air,  and  the  water  make  each 
other's  acquaintance. 

The  brook  comes  down  from  the  hills,  meanders  through  a  meadow 
fringed  with  trees,  darts  under  the  rude  bridge  where  the  road  crosses, 
and  goes  gurgling  on  through  depth  arid  shallow,  here  lost  among  the 
reeds  of  a  marsh,  there  running  the  gantlet  of  the  old  mill-wheel,  until 
the  cover  of  deep  woods  is  reached,  and  it  can  afford  to  saunter  slowly 
under  the  quiet  shade  of  the  oaks  and  sycamores. 

I  am  impelled  to  seek  its  banks  by  the  same  constant  instinct  that  led 
Thoreau  always  to  walk  towards  the  south-west.  He  thought  this  in- 
scrutable impulse  in  him  was  a  part  of  the  settled  migratory  tendency  of 
the  race,  insisting  on  individual  as  well  as  national  progress  westward — an 
orientation  of  the  mind  inspiring  poetry  and  myths  the  world  over. 

But  the  avenues  of  entrance  to  a  new  continent  have  always  been 
by  its  rivers,  so  it  may  be  that  my  impulse  towards  the  brook  is  equally 
owing  to  a  prevailing  tendency  of  humanity;  yet  I  only  think  of  the 
walk  in  that  direction,  if  it  occurs  to  me  to  notice  the  matter  at  all,  as 
the  quickest  way  of  withdrawing  into  the  wilderness. 

"The  attractiveness  of  a  brook,"  said  Thoreau,  "depends  much  on  the 
character  of  its  bottom.  I  love  just  now  to  see  one  flowing  through  soft 
sand  like  this,  where  it  wears  a  deep  but  irregular  channel,  now  wider  and 
shallower,  with  distinct  ripple  marks,  now  shelving  off  suddenly  to  in- 
distinct depths,  meandering  as  well  up  and  down  as  from  side  to  side, 
deepest  where  narrowest,  and  even  gullying  under  this  bank  or  that,  its 
bottom  lifted  up  to  one  side  or  the  other,  the  current  inclining  to  one 
side.  I  stop  to  look  at  the  circular  shadows  of  the  dimples  over  the 
yellow  sand,  and  the  dark-brown  clams  on  their  edges  in  the  sand  at  the 
bottom.  ...  A  pure  brook  is  a  very  beautiful  object  to  study  minutely. 
It  will  bear  the  closest  inspection,  even  to  the  fine  air-bubbles,  like  minute 


40 


EXPLORING  A  COUNTRY  BROOK. 


globules  of  quicksilver,  that  lie  on  its  bottom.  The  minute  particles  or 
spangles  of  golden  mica  in  these  sands,  when  the  sun  shines  on  them, 
remind  one  of  the  golden  sands  we  read  of.  Every- 
thing is  washed  clean  and  bright,  and  the  water  is 
the  best  glass  through  which  to  see  it." 

A  walk  at  the  edge  of  a  brook  in  the  country, 
stepping  from  stone  to  stone  between  its  margin  and 
its  shallow  bed,  or,  better,  its  navigation,  fol- 
lowing each  curve,  furnishes  sensations  akin  to 
those  felt  by  original  explorers.      The  border 
of  rushes,  shrubbery,  and  trees  shuts  out  the  civil- 
ized landscape;  the  sounds  of  distant  industry  are 
lost  in  the  nearer  prattle  of  the  water;  and  for 
short  spaces  the  vista  is  as  primitive  and 


"THE  EDGE  OF  A  BROOK  IN  THE  COUNTRY." 

wild  as  when  no  keel  but  that  of  the  red  man's  canoe  had 
cleft  its  waters.     The  hope  and  exhilaration  of  discovery 
revive  in  rounding  every  bend,  and  scenes  quite  familiar 
to  you  from  the  roadway  become  novel  and  fresh  when  seen 
from  this  new  point  of  view. 

In  the  course  of  a  mile  along  such  a  stream  you  may  study 
the  whole  of  geography:  on  either  hand  lie  continents;  the  wa- 
ter between  may  serve  for  ocean,  inland  sea,  river,  or  brook,  as  your  fancy 
dictates ;  the  hills  form  a  terra  incognita  where  are  the  hidden  sources 


THE   HOME   OF  THE   SPOTTED   SAND-PIPER.  41 

of  this  Kile;  the  mill  and  bridge  are  the  towns  of  its  world ;  the  meadow 
and  pasture,  the  plains  and  highlands  by  which  it  passes ;  it  has  islands 
and  peninsulas  and  isthmuses,  capes,  promontories,  and  reefs.  The 
teacher  of  the  district  school  at  the  cross-roads  can  plant  a  firmer  lesson 
in  the  restless  young  minds  under  her  charge  by  an  afternoon's  stroll 
along  this  stream  than  by  a  month's  study  of  atlas  and  definition. 

Thither  goes  the  ornithologist  on  sweet  June  mornings,  when  the 
spring  torrent  has  subsided,  and  the  dog-wood  is  launching  its  large  pet- 
als on  the  brook.  The  long-roll  of  the  kingfisher  summons  him,  and  he 
finds  a  gay  company  of  birds  hardly  to  be  met  with  elsewhere.  Two 
of  these  are  especially  characteristic  of  such  a  locality,  and  a  walk  in  early 
summer  will  be  sure  to  find  them. 

Opposite  a  certain  crescentic  bluff,  where  the  bank-swallows  breed  in 
great  numbers,  and  an  occasional  kingfisher  is  to  be  seen,  lies  a  broad, 
gravelly  beach,  which,  during  spring  freshets,  is  inundated,  as  is  shown 
by  the  muddy  drift-wood  entangled  in  the  lower  branches  of  the  willows 
and  alders.  Whenever  I  come  here  my  ears  are  saluted  with  a  soft  lit- 
tle bird-squeal — pee-weet,  weet,  weet — and  a  tiny  object  scuds  off  on  swift, 
slender  feet;  or  gray  wings,  trailing  downward  from  its  body  as  though 
broken,  carry  it  away  in  a  circuitous  sweep,  just  skimming  the  surface 
of  the  water.  This  can  be  only 

THE    SPOTTED    SAND-PIPEE. 

It  is  an  independent  little  fellow,  scuttling  in  its  ridiculous  way  from 
the  tropics  to  the  arctic  zone  and  back  every  year. 

Unlike  most  of  its  allies,  this  species  is  not  confined  to  the  sea-shore, 
nor  does  it  congregate  in  flocks,  but  spreads  all  over  the  country,  follow- 
ing those  natural  paths — the  rivers — until  adventurous  ones  reach  even 
Alaska  and  Labrador,  scale  the  sides  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  make 
their  nests  in  the  fens  far  north  of  Lake  Superior.  Meanwhile,  thou- 
sands less  energetic,  or  more  economical  of  time  and  strength,  stay  with 
us  in  every  State,  and  in  the  southern  portions  of  the  Union  succeed  in 
raising  two  families  before  warned  by  comrades  returning  from  the  North 
that  winter  is  at  their  heels. 

It  breeds  as  plentifully  in  the  depths  of  the  Maine  forests  as  on  the 
low,  sandy  islands,  or  in  the  marshes  by  our  sea-coast.  The  female,  about 
the  first  week  in  April,  scratches  a  hollow  in  the  sandy  earth  by  some 
pond,  or  sometimes  in  a  corn-field  or  orchard,  lining  it  with  a  few  pieces 
of  straw  or  moss,  and  lays  four  eggs,  which  she  adjusts,  with  their  small 
ends  together,  in  the  middle  of  the  nest ;  these  eggs  are  usually  abruptly 


42  AFFECTIONATE  PARENTS. 

pyriform,  sometimes  a  little  lengthened,  are  clay -color,  marked  with 
blotches  and  spots  of  timber  and  sienna  brown,  thickest  at  the  greater 
end  (where  in  some  specimens  they  are  confluent),  and  measure  about  one 
inch  and  a  third  in  length  by  one  inch  in  width. 

The  nest  presents  so  little  to  catch  the  eye  that  you  may  look  long  and 
not  discover  that  it  is  close  to  your  feet.  The  young  appear  during  the 
first  days  of  June  (in  the  middle  parts  of  the  United  States),  and  run  about 
with  wonderful  speed  as  soon  as  they  leave  the  shell,  covered  with  a  down 
of  dull  gray,  marked  with  a  single  streak  of  black  down  the  back,  and  an- 
other behind  each  ear.  Their  cry  is  weak  and  plaintive. 

The  parents  are  greatly  distressed  by  the  approach  of  any  person  to 
their  nest,  and  exert  themselves  by  counterfeiting  lameness,  and  by  other 
frantic  movements,  to  lead  the  intruder  away  and  prevent  its  exposure. 
Mr.  William  Bartrarn  —  America's  White  of  Selborne  —  told  Alexander 
Wilson  a  pleasant  story  of  how  he  saw  one  of  these  sand-pipers  defend  her 
young  against  the  attacks  of  a  ground-squirrel,  though  it  strikes  me  that  it 
is  not  the  ordinary  habit  of  chipmunks  to  attempt  to  devour  young  birds: 

"  The  scene  of  action  was  on  the  river  shore.  The  parent  had  thrown 
herself,  with  her  two  young  behind  her,  between  them  and  the  land  ;  and 
at  every  attempt  of  the  squirrel  to  seize  them  by  a  circuitous  sweep,  raised 
both  her  wings  in  an  almost  perpendicular  position,  assuming  the  most 
formidable  appearance  she  was  capable  of,  and  rushed  forward  on  the 
squirrel,  who,  intimidated  by  her  boldness  and  manner,  instantly  retreated  ; 
but  presently  returning,  was  met,  as  before,  in  front  and  on  flank,  by  the 
daring  and  affectionate  bird,  who,  with  her  wings  and  whole  plumage 
bristling  up,  seemed  swelled  to  twice  her  usual  size.  The  young  crowded 
together  behind  her,  apparently  sensible  of  their  perilous  situation,  mov- 
ing backward  and  forward  as  she  advanced  or  retreated.  This  interest- 
ing scene  lasted  for  at  least  ten  minutes;  the  strength  of  the  poor  parent 
began  evidently  to  flag,  and  the  attacks  of  the  squirrel  became  more  dar- 
ing and  frequent,  when  my  good  friend,  like  one  of  those  celestial  agents 
who,  in  Homer's  time,  so  often  decided  the  palm  of  victory,  stepped  for- 
ward from  his  retreat,  drove  the  assailant  back  to  his  hole,  and  rescued 
the  innocent  from  destruction." 

This  bird  is  not  uncommonly  seen  also  in  western  Europe,  while  it 
winters  in  Central  and  South  America  and  the  West  Indies,  departing 
thither  in  October. 

The  spotted  sand-piper  is  small — about  seven  and  a  half  inches  long — 
and  has  a  straight,  slender  bill  an  inch  in  length,  and  grooved  on  each 
side;  the  legs  and  toes  are  reddish  yellow  and  rather  long,  the  outer 


A   SAND-PIPER   OF  MANY  NAMES.  43 

toe  connected  with  the  middle  one  by  a  large  membrane.  The  color  of 
the  upper  parts  is  brownish  green,  with  a  somewhat  metallic  or  bronzed 
lustre,  marked  by  many  lines,  arrow-heads,  and  spots  of  brownish  black, 
also  lustrous ;  under  parts  white,  with  many  circular  and  oval  spots  of 
brownish  black,  largest  on  the  abdomen  ;  wings  greenish  brown,  crossed 
by  a  narrow  bar  of  white;  outer  feathers  of  the  tail  tipped  with  white 
and  barred  with  black ;  line  over  the  eye,  white. 

Its  systematic  name  is  Tringoides  macularius,  but  its  common  names 
are  many  and  various — spotted  sand-piper ',  little  spotted  sand-piper,  or  sand- 
lark  (at  Lake  Superior,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  "solitary"  and  per- 
haps other  species  of  beach- birds),  butter-snipe  (northern  Maryland), 
fly-up-the-creek  (a  name  also  applied  to  a  small  heron),  all  of  which  refer 
to  its  shape  and  affinities.  Derived  from  its  high-pitched,  peevish,  yet 
musical  cry,  are  peeweet,  peet-weet,  and  weet-Mrd,  the  latter  used  by  old 
Brickell,  who  says,  "so  called  from  their  Weeting  or  cry  before  Rain." 
Another  set  of  names  includes  wagtail  (Newfoundland),  teeter-snipe,  teeter- 
tail,  tip-up,  and  the  like,  all  describing  an  action  very  characteristic  of 
the  bird,  which,  whenever  it  alights,  or  pauses  in  its  running,  begins  at 
once  to  mince  and  teeter  upon  its  legs,  lifting  and  dropping  its  tail,  and 
rising  and  sinking  on  elastic,  half-bending  toes,  as  though  it  were  perpet- 
ually courtesying,  and  hoped  by  an  excessive  show  of  good-manners  to 
win  your  notice,  and  so  get  a  chance  to  make  some  humble  petition.  This 
teetering,  courtesying,  balancing  action,  recalling  Dryden's  picture  of 

"The  mincing  lady-prioress  and  the  broad-speaking  wife  of  Bath," 

is  quite  different  from  the  flirting  nervousness  of  the  other  bird  we  have 
made  this  walk  especially  to  seek. 

Following  the  windings  of  the  growing  stream  down  past  the  mead- 
ows into  the  woods,  where  it  prowls  about  the  bare  roots  of  old  trees,  and 
plunges  over  a  rocky  bottom  between  banks  covered  to  the  water's  edge 
with  thickets  and  fern-brakes,  we  are  pretty  sure  to  find  one  or  two  lit- 
tle birds  that  rarely  leave  such  sequestered  spots.  These  are  the  two 
cousins  of  the  oven-bird— 

THE    WATER-THRUSHES,   OR    WAGTAILS. 

Very  pleasant  little  people  to  know  are  both  of  them,  although  it  is  not 
at  all  easy  to  make  their  acquaintance,  since  they  are  shy  of  being  watched, 
and  secrete  themselves  in  the  most  out-of-the-way  places,  but  always 
in  the  close  vicinity  of  the  water.  The  small-billed  or  New- York  wag- 
tail is  not  uncommon  in  the  northern  part  of  the  United  States  through 


44  A  LARGE-BILLED   WATER-THRUSH. 

the  summer,  while  it  slowly  moves  in  the  winter  to  the  Gulf-coast  and 
the  West  Indies.  The  large-billed  or  Louisiana  wagtail,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  best  known  at  the  South,  where,  in  summer,  it  extends  north- 
ward to  southern  Illinois  in  the  west,  and  to  Connecticut  in  the  east. 

Each  finds  its  food  in  the  insects  and  their  young  that  ha\7e  their 
haunts  among  the  wet  leaves  and  rank  weeds  flourishing  along  river- 
banks,  and  in  those  aquatic  species  that  cling  to  stones  in  the  bottom 
of  the  stream.  On  land  they  have  a  graceful,  gliding  walk,  not  hopping 
as  do  most  woodland  birds.  Both  are  very  fine  singers — the  finest  of  all 
the  warblers.  The  small-billed  does  not  seem  to  have  its  full  share  of 
credit  as  a  vocalist,  on  account  of  its  modesty,  and  the  fact  that  its  songs 
are  all  of  love  to  its  mate,  seeming  never  to  be  wasted  on  any  other 
occasion  than  wooing,  although  then  often  continued  into  a  moonlit  sere- 
nade. An  enthusiastic  writer  describes  this  song  as  beginning  with  a 
startling  outburst  of  melody,  clear  and  ringing,  as  if  surprised  by  a  sud- 
den joy,  after  which  it  keeps  falling  until  you  can  hardly  hear  it :  the 
tones  are  strong  yet  very  sweet.  But,  if  yon  want  to  see  the  little  min- 
strel, you  must  go  carefully  in  a  boat  to  near  the  place  where  he  secretes 
himself  with  his  mate. 

The  large-billed  is  more  prodigal  of  his  music  and  not  quite  so  cautious 
about  listeners.  In  the  picturesque  little  "runs" — they  would  be  called 
" trout-brooks"  in  New  England — that  find  their  way  down  the  tangled 
ravines  between  the  lofty  hills  of  West  Virginia,  I  used  often  to  come 
upon  them,  and  by  ordinary  caution  could  easily  watch  them  at  work  or 
play,  or  when  singing.  They  seemed  to  choose  to  loiter  about  the  pebbly 
shallows  just  above  the  cataract,  where  they  could  jump  from  stone  to 
stone,  or  run  along  the  drifted  logs,  rather  than  to  retreat  to  the  dark 
brakes  beloved  of  the  small -billed  wagtail.  They  were  never  still  a 
minute.  Even  when  standing  they  seemed  to  rest  unsteadily  on  their 
legs,  as  if  their  thin,  transparent  tarsi  were  too  weak  to  hold  them,  and 
were  incessantly  jerking  and  "wagging"  their  tails,  not  depressing  them 
as  the  sand-pipers  do,  but  flirting  them  in  a  restless  way. 

The  large-billed's  song  is  uttered  while  the  bird  stands  by  some  log  or 
stone — for  it  rarely  alights  upon  a  branch — and  is  full  of  fire  and  bright 
melody,  yet  it  is  hardly  so  accomplished  a  musical  performance  as  that  of 
his  brother.  If  he  gets  the  idea  that  he  is  wanted  to  grace  your  cabinet, 
he  vents  his  indignation  in  a  little  chick,  like  the  noise  made  "  by  striking 
two  pebbles  together,"  and  is  off  to  some  secure  retreat  in  a  twinkling. 
"Come  upon  him  suddenly,  however,  as  he  is  moving  nimbly  along  the 
margin  of  some  great  pool  or  rippling  eddy,  and  at  times  he  will  seem  to 


A  NEST   LIKE  A  DUTCH  OVEN.  45 

pay  little  regard  to  your  presence,  and  you  may  have  a  fine  chance  to  ob- 
serve his  motions  and  sand-piper-like  ways,  as  he  wades  knee-deep  into 
the  water,  or  splashes  through  it  in  hot  pursuit  of  some  aquatic  insect." 

Thus  pleasantly  writes  William  Brewster,  with  whom  it  was  my 
privilege  to  climb  those  rugged  West  Virginian  hills,  and  thread  those 
charming  valleys  in  search  of  feathered  friends. 


"PEBBLY  SHALLOWS  JUST  ABOVE  THE  CATARACT." 

All  three  members  of  this  genus  are  aptly  called  oven-birds,  because 
of  the  covered,  oven-like  nests  which  they  build  upon  the  ground.  That 
of  the  common  golden-crowned  wagtail  is  well  known  to  all  of  us.  The 
northern  home  of  the  small-billed  is  very  similar,  except  that  it  usually 
builds  beneath  a  pile  of  drift  or  some  such  object,  and  so  saves  itself  the 
trouble  of  putting  a  roof  over  its  nest.  In  the  dense  cedar- swamps  of 
Maine  an  excavation  is  often  made  under  a  decaying  log,  and  a  warm  bed 
of  firmly  woven  mosses  and  soft  fibrous  materials  is  tucked  into  it.  Could 
one  imagine  a  snugger  resting-place  for  the  red-spotted  eggs? 

Although  the  Louisiana  wagtails  were  so  common  in  West  Virginia, 


46  THE  NEW  WAGTAIL'S  NEST. 

we  never  found  one  of  their  nests;  but  it  was  my  good-luck  to  discover 
its  home  near  Norwich,  Connecticut,  where  it  is  very  rare,  and  very  much 
farther  north-east  than  it  had  ever  before  been  known  to  breed.* 

I  was  walking  up  the  bed  of  the  Yantic  River — much  such  a  stream 
as  appears  in  the  illustration  on  page  45 — one  day  in  the  latter  part  of 
June,  stepping  from  stone  to  stone,  and  searching  the  overhanging  branches 
for  nests,  when  a  little  bird  I  did  not  at  once  recognize  darted  from  under 
the  roots  of  a  beech-tree  growing  on  the  sheer  edge  of  the  steep  bank, 
and  flew  straight  away,  uttering  alarmed  chirrups.  Feeling  interested, 
I  concealed  myself  near  by  and  patiently  waited,  confident  that  the 
strange  bird  would  return.  In  twenty  minutes  I  was  rewarded  by  its 
reappearance,  and  then  I  saw,  with  delight,  that  it  was  a  female  large- 
billed  wagtail,  and  that  she  had  her  home  under  the  roots  of  the  beech  ; 
but  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  the  disturbance,  and  to  be  in 
no  haste  whatever  to  resume  her  sitting.  By  these  signs  I  concluded  that 
her  eggs  were  fresh,  for  when  she  is  driven  off  during  the  latter  days  of 
incubation  she  rolls  and  tumbles  about,  uttering  piteous  cries  to  attract 
your  pursuit.  When  at  length  she  disclosed  its  position,  I  found  the  nest 
sunk  behind  a  cushion  of  moss,  and  into  the  rotten  wood  among  the  roots, 
in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  covered  over  completely. 

It  was  rather  loosely  and  carelessly  constructed  of  fine  grass  and  some 
dead,  fibrous  moss;  but,  beneath  and  about  the  outside,  particularly  in 
front,  many  dead  leaves  were  put  as  a  sort  of  breastwork,  the  more  thor- 
oughly to  conceal  the  sitting  bird.  It  was  a  typical  nest,  except  that  often 
it  is  more  conspicuously  placed.  The  four  eggs  were  of  a  beautiful  ros\' 
tint  (becoming  pure  white  after  being  blown),  and  were  profusely  spotted 
all  over  with  dots,  specks,  and  obscure  zigzaggings,  of  two  tints  of  reddish 
brown  and  faint  lilac,  the  spots  most  crowded  at  the  large  end. 

In  order  to  distinguish  these  two  species  apart,  and  from  the  golden- 
crown,  a  somewhat  minute  description  of  each  will  be  necessary. 

The  small-billed  wagtail  (Sinrus  ncevius)  is  six  and  one-fifth  inches  in 
length,  with  the  bill  about  as  long  as  the  skull.  The  plumage  above  is 
olive  brown,  with  a  shade  of  green  ;  beneath,  sulphur  yellow,  brightest 
on  the  abdomen.  There  is  a  brownish  yellow  line  over  the  eye,  a  dusky 
line  from  the  bill  through  it,  and  the  throat  and  chin  are  finely  spotted. 
All  the  remaining  under  parts,  except  the  abdomen  and  sides  of  the  body, 
are  thickly  streaked  with  olivaceous  brown,  almost  black  on  the  breast. 


*  See  American  Naturalist,  vol.  viii.,  p.  238,  and  Bulletin  of  the  Nuttall  Ornithological 
Club,  vol.  iii.,  p.  133  ;  vol.  v.,  p.  116. 


ARCHITECTURE  OF  THE  OVEN-BIRD.  47 

The  large-billed  wagtail  (Siurus  motacilla)  is  slightly  larger  than  the 
other,  and  its  bill  is  longer  than  the  skull.  The  upper  parts  are  olive 
brown,  with  a  greenish  shade;  under  parts  white,  with  a  very  faint  tinge 
of  pale  buff  behind.  There  is  a  conspicuous  white  line  over  the  eye,  a 
brown  one  though  widening  behind,  and  a  dusky  line  backward  from  the 
mouth  along  the  side  of  the  throat ;  the  fore  part  of  the  breast  and  sides 
of  the  body  are  covered  with  brownish  arrow-shaped  streaks,  fcnt  the  chin, 
throat,  belly,  and  vent  are  unspotted.  This  is  a  northern  bird. 

The  golden-crowned  wagtail  (Siiirus  auricapillus)  is  six  inches  long, 
and  colored  as  follows:  Above,  uniform  olive  green,  with  a  tinge  of  yel- 
low ;  crown  with  two  narrow  streaks  of  black  from  the  bill,  enclosing  a 
median  and  much  broader  one  of  brownish  orange;  beneath,  white;  the 
breast,  sides  of  the  body,  and  a  maxillary  line  streaked  with  black.  The 
female,  and  young  of  the  year,  are  not  appreciably  different. 

The  latter  species,  like  others  of  the  genus,  is  noted  for  its  vocal  pow- 
ers and  for  its  nest.  In  regard  to  the  first,  John  Burroughs  has  left 
nothing  for  me  to  say,  as  you  will  agree  after  reading  pages  61  and  65 
of  "  Wake  Robin  ;"  but  of  the  home  of  the  golden-crown  I  must  write 
a  brief  description. 

Rather  an  early  arrival  in  the  middle  and  northern  States,  wintering 
rarely  this  side  of  Mexico  and  the  Antilles,  it  quickly  proceeds  to  estab- 
lish its  well-guarded  dwelling  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  less  often  in  a 
cleared  space,  and  then  only  when  the  shelter  of  bushes  is  close  by ;  and 
it  is  noticeable  that  the  neighborhood  of  water  is  not  important,  as  is  the 
case  with  its  congeners.  Scraping  aside  the  dead  leaves,  until  a  foun- 
dation of  solid  earth  is  secured,  the  skilful  bird  entwines  linear  leaves, 
grasses,  shreds  of  bark,  and  bits  of  moss  or  blossoms,  into  a  circular  bed 
both  dry  and  warm.  Then,  from  materials  close  at  hand,  and  hence  not 
easily  discernible  through  any  difference  between  them  and  their  surround- 
ings, she  heaps  up  a  parapet,  and  drags  upon  the  top  old  dead  leaves,  long 
dry  weeds,  and  stems  of  grasses,  pieces  of  light  bark  that  squirrels  or 
woodpeckers  have  thrown  down,  and  even  twigs,  until  she  has  made  a 
complete  domed  roof  over  her  snug  domicile,  with  its  little  unnoticed 
door  in  front  whence  she  can  peer  out.  In  this  way  she  constructs  a 
cave-house,  where  she  may  sit  secure  from  anything  short  of  an  ac- 
cident. 

Varying  in  its  timber  with  the  kind  of  wood  or  pasture  in  which  it  is 
placed,  the  only  way  to  find  it  is  by  searching  the  ground  where  a  nest  is 
suspected,  or  where  it  seems  likely  one  may  be,  until  the  bird  is  startled 
out  of  her  retreat.  Even  so,  one  cannot  always  be  sure  of  his  prize;  for 


4:8  AN  EXAMPLE  OF  BIRD-SHREWDNESS. 

when  thus  surprised,  the  mother  runs  from  her  nest  with  the  silence  and 
celerity  of  a  mouse,  rarely  losing  her  presence  of  mind. 

These  nests  are  not,  however,  invariably  domed  like  old-fashioned 
ovens  in  miniature.  Now  and  then  the  shrewd  bird  so  takes  advantage 
of  a  sheltering  rock,  or  the  protection  of  a  projecting  root,  where  no  su- 
perstructure would  be  necessary  to  its  concealment,  that  it  is  saved  this 
trouble  and  builds  no  dome ;  and  I  think  that  the  roof  of  a  nest,  unshel- 
tered by  any  rock  or  root,  must  be  intended  as  a  guard  against  the  eyes 
of  enemies  rather  than  any  shield  from  the  weather.  The  fact  that  nests 
built  in  very  thick  woods  are  frequently  left  uncovered  supports  this  be- 
lief. Dr.  T.  JVI.  Brewer  tells  pleasantly  how  his  daughter,  then  a  child  four 
years  of  age,  discovered  such  a  one.  It  was  built  in  a  depression  in  the 
ground,  and  its  top  was  completely  covered  by  the  natural  growth  of  sur- 
rounding vines  and  wild-flowers.  Although  the  little  girl  and  her  father 
were  standing  with  their  feet  almost  upon  the  nest,  the  warbler  remained 
sitting  quietly  until  the  child  stooped  to  pluck  the  flowers  growing  di- 
rectly over  its  entrance ;  then  the  bird  darted  out,  and  fluttered  and  tum- 
bled about  with  well-feigned  manoeuvres  to  distract  attention  from  her 
treasures.  The  child,  in  great  glee,  tried  to  catch  it,  but  of  course  failed  ; 
while  the  father,  wiser  in  the  ways  of  birds,  stooped  to  examine  the  nest 
and  saw  that  it  had  no  other  cover  than  the  wild  plants  that  naturally 
clustered  above  it. 


V. 

WINTER  WORK  FOR  NATURALISTS. 

WHEN  winter  has  come  fairly  upon  us,  out-door  work  in  most  cases 
must  be  exchanged  by  the  naturalist  for  that  which  may  be  carried 
on  within  doors.  There  need  not,  of  course,  be  an  entire  suspension  of 
the  collector's  labor.  Fungi  spring  up  by  the  myriad  on  every  side, 
mosses  seem  to  take  on  a  new  vigor,  and  a  few  hardy  wild-flowers  brave 
the  storms,  repaying  the  diligent  botanist  for  his  walk.  The  entomologist 
may  be  able  to  find  dormant  larvae  underground,  or  beneath  loose  bark, 
if  he  take  the  trouble  to  search  for  them  ;  and  any  one  can  get  a  certain 
number  of  species  of  birds  and  quadrupeds  at  this  time,  not.  likely  to  be 
seen  at  the  opposite  season  of  the  year.  In  a  subsequent  chapter  I  shall 
sketch  the  way  in  which  the  animal  life  of  the  northern  part  of  the 
country  meets  and  endures  frost,  snow,  and  chilling  temperature. 

But,  as  a  rule,  the  naturalist  looks  forward  to  the  winter  as  a.  time  of 
rest  from  such  labors,  when  he  may  devote  himself  to  the  study  of  the 
treasures  which  his  summer  jaunts  have  yielded  him.  The  botanist  ar- 
ranges his  delicate  dried  plants  in  clean  papers,  labels  and  classifies  them 
in  permanent  shape.  The  oologist  brings  out  his  nests  and  eggs  in  the 
long  evenings,  sets  the  former  into  paper  shells  or  suitable  boxes,  and 
arranges  the  eggs  in  his  cabinet  anew,  making  room  for  the  novelties. 
The  conchologist  lays  aside  his  duplicates  for  exchanges,  and  notes  points 
of  interest  about  lately  acquired  specimens.  Microscopists  busy  themselves 
in  mounting  new  slides  and  careful  examination  of  old  ones,  while,  un- 
mindful of  wind  and  snow  outside,  the  chemist  or  electrician  is  engrossed 
in  experiments  with  novel  contrivances  for  extracting  Nature's  secrets. 
Least  of  all  does  he  look  forward  with  dread  to  the  confinement  of  win- 
ter who  is  happy  in  the  possession  of  a  thriving  aquarium,  for  here  is  a 
little  square  bit  of  green  and  growth,  preserving  to  him  the  idea  of  sum- 
mer if  nothing  more. 

But  there  is  a  class  of  persons  who,  while  they  certainly  feel  an  inter- 

4 


50  UTILIZING  AMATEUR  NATURALISTS. 

est  in  the  productions  and  processes  of  nature,  and  are  accustomed  to  use 
their  eyes,  have  never  had  the  opportunity  or  the  habit  of  making  natural 
history  a  practical  stud}7.  They  may  not  be  willing  to  devote  time  to, 
or  have  learned  enough  to  understand,  technical  books ;  or  may  not  be 
able  to  buy  them,  since  unfortunately  it  is  rare  that  books  of  this  kind 
are  both  cheap  and  good.  Moreover,  while  many  would  be  pleased  to 
know  the  general  facts  of  zoology  and  botany,  they  do  not  propose  to 
become  special  students ;  just  as  a  man  may  have  a  good  ear  for  melody, 
and  take  delight  in  hearing  singing  or  an  instrumental  performance,  with- 
out any  strong  desire  to  pursue  a  scientific  training  in  music. 

The  influence  of  such  persons  ought  not  to  be  lost  to  the  cause  of 
natural  science,  nor  ought  they  to  be  deprived  of  the  charm  and  benefit 
of  its  study ;  and  there  is  a  method  by  which  they  may  not  only  add  to 
the  knowledge  now  possessed,  but  make  themselves  more  ready  and  in- 
telligent observers  during  subsequent  out-door  seasons.  The  latter  would 
be  the  more  positive  gain  of  the  two,  for  the  faculty  of  observation  is  an 
acquired  capital  which  is  sure  to  return  a  large  interest.  The  method 
to  which  I  allude  is  the  formation  of  natural  history  clubs,  which,  even 
when  most  informally  conducted,  will  serve  an  excellent  purpose  in  vil- 
lage society. 

In  many  towns  scientific  associations  already  exist,  but  perhaps  have 
been  neglected  altogether,  or  else  allowed  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  few 
unprogressive  persons,  who,  by  monopolizing  them,  have  destroyed  the 
vitality.  Revive  these  organizations  if  they  are  worth  it,  and  guard 
against  undue  profundity  in  one  or  two  members,  particularly  if  they  are 
inclined  to  be  talkative.  This  kind  of  a  man  discourages  the  younger, 
timid,  and  more  humble-minded  ones,  who  nevertheless  might  have  very 
suggestive  facts  to  offer  if  they  were  not  awed  into  silence.  I  have  in 
mind  one  of  the  most  influential  societies  of  this  kind  in  the  United 
States,  whose  rule  for  several  years  after  organization  was,  that  no  pro- 
fessional naturalist  or  elderly  man  should  be  admitted.  After  a  time, 
when  all  the  youngsters  had  learned  confidence  in  themselves,  and  by 
good  work  had  confirmed  the  respect  of  their  elders,  the  wise-heads  were 
let  in,  and  were  very  thankful  for  the  privilege. 

"The  cups  that  cheer  but  not  inebriate" 

are  a  great  help  to  break  the  ice  of  such  a  first  meeting,  which  needs  to 
be  freed,  once  for  all,  from  a  feeling  of  chill  dignity.  In  such  a  pleas- 
ant parlor-chatting,  cakes-and-ale  way,  was  the  powerful  Biological  So- 
ciety of  Washington  set  on  foot  in  1881;  but  through  a  continuance  of, 


ORGANIZATION  OF  A  NATURALISTS'  CLUB.  51 

and  the  consequent  rivalry  set  on  foot  by,  the  dangerous  practice  of  edi- 
ble entertainment  at  all  the  meetings,  its  predecessor,  the  Potomac  Club, 
had  come  to  an  untimely  end. 

There  are  always  two  or  three  persons  in  a  village  interested  in  scien- 
tific matters  who  can  tell  a  good  deal,  if  they  choose,  about  the  natural 
history  of  the  neighborhood.  Let  these  get  together,  invite  such  friends 
as  they  think  likely  to  come,  and  spend  an  evening  in  talking  over  the 
geology  and  antiquities,  and  the  habits  of  the  birds,  beasts,  insects,  and 
plants  of  the  vicinit}T. 

After  this  neighborly  beginning  is  achieved,  even  though  there  may 
be  few  mutual  acquaintances  in  the  room,  young  naturalists,  or  would-be 
naturalists,  will  find  little  difficulty  in  conversing  on  the  topic  that  has 
brought  them  together.  The  humanizing  influence  of  natural  science  is 
great;  and  because  of  this,  no  doubt,  arises  the  good  feeling  which  all 
true  naturalists  possess  when  in  each  other's  company.  I  believe,  also, 
that  nothing  in  the  world  will  preserve  youth,  in  spite  of  advancing  years, 
like  this  study  and  companionship  with  ever-rejuvenate  nature. 

Having  decided  that  your  circle  will  be  able  to  come  together  regu- 
larly, it  is  well  to  introduce  some  little  formality  in  order  that  time  shall 
not  be  wasted.  "  As  in  races,"  said  Bacon,  "  it  is  not  the  large  stride  or 
high  lift  that  makes  speed ;  so  in  business,  the  keeping  close  to  the  mat- 
ter, and  not  taking  of  it  too  much  at  once,  procureth  despatch." 

But  this  formality  need  go  hardly  farther  than  the  choice  of  a  chair- 
man, whose  care  it  shall  be  to  find  at  least  one  member  who  shall  suggest 
the  leading  topic  for  attention  that  evening,  by  reading  a  short  paper — 
so  far  as  possible  one  of  original  observation,  very  practical,  and  expressed 
in  the  simplest  phraseology.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  let  this  topic  be  known 
to  the  members  somewhat  in  advance,  if  possible. 

The  discussion  which  follows  will  be  likely  to  bring  out  many  facts 
which,  trivial  in  themselves,  are  of  value  as  necessary  links  in  the  chain 
of  information.  The  chairman  should  also  be  expected  to  insist  that 
no  speaker  be  interrupted  while  he  is  talking.  This,  however  small  and 
ungracious  a  matter  it  may  seem,  has  proved  to  be  an  important  rule  in 
such  clubs.  But  do  not  attempt  the  strictness  of  parliamentary  usage. 
I  know  of  two  flourishing  societies — yes,  three — where  all  the  members 
get  out  their  pipes  as  soon  as  the  papers  begin  to  be  read. 

This  suggests  a  momentary  digression.  Of  course  the  smokers  just 
alluded  to  were  sitting  in  the  absence  of  ladies,  who  do  not  often  belong 
to  the  Academies;  but  in  the  local  clubs  I  have  in  mind  there  is  no 
reason  why  they  should  not  be  present,  and  active  members — every  reason 


52  A  LIMIT  TO  SUITABLE  TOPICS  FOR  CLUB-STUDY. 

why  they  should.  They  need  the  recreation  quite  as  much  as  husbands 
and  brothers;  they  can  contribute  facts  equally  worth  hearing.  In  a 
western  city  of  some  twenty-five  thousand  people  a  natural-science  soci- 
ety was  started  by  a  small  circle  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  which  in  less 
than  half  a  dozen  years  made  itself  the  intellectual  centre  of  the  town, 
and  exerted  a  constant  and  most  wholesome  influence  towards  the  advance- 
ment of  knowledge,  the  habit  of  observation,  and  the  cultivation  of  accu- 
racy and  criticism.  To  this  success  the  ladies  contributed  quite  as  much 
as  the  gentlemen.  This  society  saw  the  various  dangers  and  temptations 
arising  from  the  practice  of  meeting  at  members'  houses,  and  early  adopted 
the  better  plan  of  meeting  in  a  room  of  its  own.  This  can  generally  be 
done  without  expense,  as  a  school-room,  a  library,  or  some  other  semi- 
public  place  will  be  procurable,  in  most  cases,  until  the  society  is  strong 
enough  to  provide  its  own  club-room. 

Now  comes  the  question :  What  topics  may,  and  what  may  not,  be 
considered  by  such  a  club,  for  a  line  must  be  drawn.  Well,  this  depends. 
There  are  .two  great  divisions  of  the  sciences — the  physical  and  the  natu- 
ral. It  is  doubtful  whether  both  branches  can  be  entertained  very  well 
by  a  village  club,  at  least  on  the  same  evening.  In  a  natural  history 
society  the  study  of  geology,  animal  and  plant  life,  and .  prehistoric  re- 
mains of  human  occupation  would  be  admissible,  and  nothing  outside  of 
this.  It  is. well  to  remember  Bishop  Wilson's  maxim:  "Avoid  as  much 
as  possible  a  multiplicity  of  business." 

It  is  better  sometimes,  even  at  the  risk  of  offence,  to  refuse  would-be 
helpers  whose  zeal  outruns  their  judgment.  A  collection  of  coins,  a  vol- 
ume of  autographs,  curious  carvings  from  China,  or  bits  of  tapestry  from 
Flanders,  are  no  doubt  interesting  things;  but  these  must  not  be  allowed, 
on  the  evening  devoted  to  natural  history,  to  take  up  the  time  of  the 
company,  who  are  all  in  earnest  to  tell  and  hear  the  new  facts  learned  on 
that  topic  since  the  previous  meeting,  and  will  look  at  your  coins  and 
your  tapestry  to-morrow.  Keep  the  club  closely  to  its  own  work. 

"  To  doubtful  matters  do  not  headlong  run; 
What's  well  left  off,  were  better  not  begun." 

But  how  shall  that  work  be  furthered  ?  We  would  suggest  that  liv- 
ing objects,  or  at  least  their  preserved  remains,  be  brought  to  the  society's 
notice  in  preference  merely  to  talk  d  propos  of  nothing.  The  presence 
of  some  pieces  of  rock  and  a  few  distinct  fossils  from  the  nearest  ledge ; 
the  skin  of  some  uncommon  bird  or  quadruped  of  the  neighborhood ;  a 
box  of  moths,  butterflies,  or  beetles,  exhibiting  the  family  representation 


IMPORTANCE  OF  LEARNING  ONE'S  OWN  LOCALITY.  53 

in  that  district;  or  a  collection  of  mosses,  lichens  arid  fungi,  just  plucked, 
will  form  a  subject  for  conversation,  and  lead  to  further  inquiries  in  a 
way  that  no  paper-reading  can  do.  Do  not  let  the  essays  take  the  place 
of  living  specimens  any  more  than  can  be  helped. 

Another  suggestion  is  to  attend,  first  of  all,  to  the  natural  history  of 
one's  own  locality,  and  next  after  that  to  what  belongs  within  the  United 
States.  Do  not  go  wandering  off  to  Alaska  for  an  account  of  the  fur- 
seals  cribbed  from  Elliott,  or  down  to  Ceylon  to  tell  about  something 
which  you  may  read  of  in  Wallace.  It  is,  however,  a  good  plan  to  ex- 
hibit and  call  attention  to  new  books  and  serial  publications  which  may 
not  be  known  or  accessible  to  all  the  members;  and  it  will  be  found  that 
no  little  rivalry  will  grow  up  as  to  who  shall  be  the  first  to  bring  for- 
ward this  sort  of  information. 

Thus  a  naturalist  may  employ  his  winter  without  losing  ground. 
Most  of  these  suggestions  have  stood  the  test  of  experience  and  are  found 
to  work  well.  If  half  a  dozen  or  a  dozen  really  earnest  people  meet  to- 
gether occasionally  between  November  and  April  to  discuss  the  natural 
productions  of  their  neighborhood,  resolutely  excluding  everything  else 
from  their  attention  for  the  time  being,  they  will  surely  become  so  inter- 
ested that  the  advent  of  spring  will  find  them  eager  to  get  out  into  the 
woods  and  fields,  where  they  will  see  and  keep  enough  material  and  in- 
formation to  last  them  through  the  next  winter  thrice  over. 

In  the  very  simplicity  of  the  plan  proposed  lies  the  secret  of  its  suc- 
cess; introduce  much  red-tape  and  machinery,  along  with  many  very  wise 
professors,  and  ten  chances  to  one  the  club  will  die  of  old  age  in  its  first 
season.  "Difficulties  may  surround  our  path,"  to  quote  Dr.  Jowett,  "but 
if  the  difficulties  be  not  in  ourselves,  they  may  generally  be  overcome." 


y 


VI. 

"f*. 

A  MODEL  FIELD-NATURALIST. 

1HA  VE  lately  been  visit- 
ing a  gentleman  who 
might  serve  most  admi- 
rably as  a  model  to  any 
one  of  the  ardent  mem- 
bers of   a  society  such 
as  I  outlined  in  the  last 
chapter.      His  home  is  on  the 
bank  of  the  Delaware  River,  in  central 
New   Jersey.      The   place   was  the 
seat  of  an  old  Quaker  neighbor- 
,»      hood  long  before  the  Revolution, 
and    Washington's    soldiers    passed 
along  its  roads  and  crossed  its  fields 
many   a    time.      Later,   many    men 
who    became    famous    naturalists 
have  lived  or  visited  there — Alex- 
ander Wilson,  Lucien  Bonaparte 
(Prince  of  Musignano),  Titian 
Peale,  Rafinesque,  Thomas 
iay,  Dr.  Godman,  Tim- 
Conrad,  Audu- 


othy 


bon,    and     many 


THE   LOCAL   DISTRIBUTION  OF  ANIMALS.  55 

another — so  that  my  friend  is  only  following  legitimately  in  the  foot- 
steps and  tastes  of  his  ancestors  when  he  welcomes  the  many  men  now 
famous  in  science  to  his  hospitable  farm. 

From  Trenton  down,  the  Delaware  River  is  bordered  by  very  wide 
flats,  known  as  "  The  Meadows."  At  one  place,  fully  a  mile  from  the 
river,  a  long,  steep  bank  rises  to  the  level  of  the  farming-lands  behind, 
and  shows  the  ancient  limit  of  the  river  freshets.  In  a  beautiful  grove 
on  the  summit  of  this  bluff  stands  the  picturesque  old  home  of  my  friend, 
with  its  group  of  barns  and  sunny  gardens  about  it,  and  the  broad  grain- 
fields  behind.  Thus  pleasantly  placed  for  hearing  and  seeing  what  goes 
on  out-of-doors,  this  gentleman  has  taught  himself  to  be  one  of  the  best 
field-naturalists  in  the  world.  By  "field-naturalist"  I  mean  one  who  finds 
out  the  appearance  and  habits  of  plants  and  animals  as  they  are  when 
alive  and  in  their  own  homes,  and  who  does  not  content  himself  merely 
with  reading  what  others  write  about  them. 

It  is  very  delightful  to  talk  with  this  gentleman,  and  to  see  how  well 
he  is  acquainted  with  the  birds  and  the  four-footed  animals  of  his  district, 
all  of  which  are  under  his  jealous  protection.  He  has  half  a  dozen  little 
"  tracts  "  within  a  mile  of  his  house,  each  of  which  is  tenanted  by  a  partly 
different  class  of  plants  and  animals,  so  that  there  is  never  any  lack  of 
variety  in  his  studies.  The  truth  of  this  will  not  seem  clear  to  you  at 
first,  perhaps,  because  you  are  accustomed  to  think  that,  in  order  to  find 
any  great  diversity  in  out-door  life,  you  must  search  through  great  spaces 
of  country.  But  my  friend's  farm  would  show  us  that  a  great  many 
little  differences  are  ordinarily  overlooked,  which,  when  we  come  to  know 
them,  are  seen  to  be  real  and  important.  And  this  can  be  proven  in  one 
place  about  as  well  as  in  another. 

For  instance,  it  is  easy  to  divide  the  estate  I  am  speaking  of  into  four 
districts,  so  far  as  natural  history  is  concerned.  First,  there  are  the  up- 
land fields  and  house- gardens;  second,  the  steep  hill -side,  grown  dense 
with  trees  and  tangled  shrubbery  ;  next,  the  broad,  treeless,  lowland  mead- 
ows ;  and  lastly,  the  creek,  with  its  still,  shaded  waters,  marshy  nooks,  and 
flowery  banks. 

Now,  while  there  are  many  trees,  bushes,  and  weeds  that  are  common 
to  all  these  four  districts,  it  is  also  true  that  each  of  the  districts  has  a 
number  of  plants  and  animals  not  to  be  found  in  the  others.  You  would 
not  expect  to  get  water-snakes,  musk-rats,  or  any  wading  birds  on  the 
high  fields  behind  the  house,  nor  do  the  woodchucks,  quails,  and  vesper- 
sparrows  of  the  hill -top  go  down  among  the  sycamores  by  the  creek. 
One  quickly  gets  a  hint  here  of  the  great  fact  that  any  species  of  animal 


56  SECRETS  OF  LAND  AND  WATER. 

or  plant  may  be  spread  over  a  whole  State,  or  half  the  continent,  yet, 
nevertheless,  be  found  only  on  that  kind  of  ground  which  is  best  suited 
to  it. 

One  of  the  very  first  things  a  naturalist  has  to  learn,  therefore,  in  re- 
spect to  an  animal  whose  habits  he  wishes  to  study,  is  what  sort  of  sur- 
roundings it  loves,  and  he  will  be  surprised,  particularly  in  the  case  of 
the  smaller  creatures,  to  learn  how  careful  animals  are  in  this  matter, 
since  upon  it,  as  a  rule,  depends  their  food  and  safety.  There  are  cer- 
tain snails,  for  example,  which  my  friend  finds  in  one  corner  of  his  farm 
and  never  anywhere  else.  A  pair  of  Bewick's  wrens  have  lived  in  his 
wagon-house  for  some  years,  but  they  are  the  only  pair  in  the  whole 
county.  It  would  be  of  no  use  for  him  to  look  anywhere  off  his  bush- 
grown  hill-side  for  the  worm-eating  warbler,  the  mourning-warbler,  or 

^  O  ?  cj 

the  yellow-breasted  chat,  though  his  gardens  up  above  entice  many  other 
birds.  Similarly,  when  the  Carolina  rail  decides  to  make  its  home  on 
his  land,  it  does  not  settle  along  the  creek,  but  in  a  marshy  part  of  his 
meadows.  I  might  mention  a  large  number  of  equally  pertinent  exam- 
ples, but  these  will  suffice. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  my  friend  has  been  diligently  studying 
this  single  square  mile  around  his  house.  One  would  think  he  knew  it 
pretty  well  by  this  time,  and  he  does — better,  I  believe,  than  any  other 
square  mile  is  known  in  the  United  States.  He  can  tell  you,  and  has 
written  down,  a  hundred  things  about  our  common  animals  which  are 
real  news ;  yet  he  thinks  that  he  has  only  begun,  and  is  finding  out 
something  more  every  few  days. 

Here  is  an  instance  : 

Forty  years  ago,  or  more,  a  small,  brightly  spotted  species  of  turtle 
was  described  as  living  near  Philadelphia,  and  two  miserable  specimens 
were  sent  to  Agassiz.  It  was  called  Miihlen berg's  turtle,  and  since 
then  not  one  has  been  seen  until  last  summer.  My  friend  was  always 
on  the  lookout,  never  failing  to  pick  up  or  turn  over  every  small  turtle 
he  met  on  the  meadows  or  along  the  creek,  and  examine  whether  the 
marks  on  its  under  shell  were  those  of  the  lost  species.  Finally,  one  of 
the  ditches  in  the  meadows  was  drained  off  to  be  repaired,  and  there, 
within  a  short  distance,  were  picked  up  six  Miihlenberg  turtles  ! 

They  could  easily  have  gone  out  of  that  ditch  into  other  ditches,  and 
into  the  creek;  but  if  ever  they  did  so,  they  succeeded  for  twenty  years 
in  escaping  some  pretty  sharp  eyes  that  would  have  been  very  glad  to 
see  them.  Afterwards  two  more  were  obtained,  and  all  are  preserved  in 
the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts. 


THE  TRUE  INTENT  OF  OBSERVING  NATURE.  57 

This  little  incident  has  a  moral  for  us  in  two  ways.  One  is,  that  often 
the  apparent  rarity  of  an  animal  comes  from  the  fact  that  we  do  not  know 
where  to  look  for  it ;  and  the  other,  that  it  requires  a  practised  eye  to 
recognize  it  when  at  last  it  comes  to  light.  Many  instances  of  the  first 
named  "moral"  might  be  quoted  from  the  history  of  American  birds. 
There  is  a  sparrow  (Centronyx  bairdi),  now  common  enough  in  the  col- 
lections of  museums,  and  whose  habits  are  well  known,  which  for  thirty 
years  after  its  first  discovery  on  the  Upper  Missouri  by  Audubon,  kept 
itself  out  of  sight.  Sprague's  lark,  of  the  same  region,  affords  another 
similar  instance. 

Practise  your  methods  of  observation,  then,  without  ceasing.  In  no 
other  way  can  you  make  discoveries,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  habit  will 
be  of  inestimable  advantage  to  you  in  many  ways. 

This  is  the  merest  hint  of  how,  without  going  away  from  home,  by 
always  keeping  his  eyes  open,  a  man  or  a  boy  or  a  girl  can  study,  to 
the  great  advantage  and  enjoyment  not  only  of  himself  (or  herself),  but 
to  the  help  of  all  the  rest  of  us.  I  should  like  to  tell  you  how  patiently 
this  naturalist  friend  of  mine  watches  the  ways  of  the  wary  birds  and 
small  game  he  loves ;  how  those  sunfish  and  shy  darters  forget  that  he 
is  looking  quietly  down  through  the  still  water,  and  go  on  with  their 
daily  life  as  he  wants  to  witness  it;  how  he  drifts  silently  at  midnight, 
hid  in  his  boat,  close  to  the  timid  heron,  and  sees  him  strike  at  his  prey ; 
or  how,  concealed  in  the  topmost  branches  of  a  leafy  tree,  he  overlooks 
the  water-birds  drilling  their  little  ones,  and  smiles  at  the  play  of  a  pair 
of  rare  otters,  whose  noses  would  not  be  in  sight  an  instant  did  they 
suppose  any  one  was  looking  at  them. 

But  I  cannot  recount  all  his  vigils  and  ingenious  experiments,  or  the 
entertaining  facts  they  bring  to  our  knowledge,  since  my  object  now  is 
only  to  give  a  suggestion  of  how  much  one  man  may  do  and  learn  on  a 
single  farm  in  the  most  thickly  settled  part  of  the  United  States.  "  What 
you  seek  in  vain  for  half  your  life,"  said  Thorean,  "one  day  you  come 
full  upon  all  the  family  at  dinner." 

And  yet,  as  Emerson  well  remarked,  none  knew  better  than  Thoreau 
that  it  is  not  t\\Q  fact  that  imports,  but  the  impression  or  effect  of  the  fact 
on  your  mind.  "  Let  me  suggest  a  theme  for  you,"  Thoreau  writes  to  a 
friend — "  to  state  to  yourself  precisely  and  completely  what  that  walk 
over  the  mountains  amounted  to  for  you." 


VII. 

NATURE  IN  WINTER-QUARTERS. 

WHILE  we  are  upon  the  subject  of  winter  studies,  some  account  of 
how  the  animal  world  meets  the  cold  weather  will  be  appropriate. 

It  will  be  land  animals  chiefly  that  will  interest  us,  since,  in  the  sea, 
winter  or  summer  makes  small  difference  a  few  feet  below  the  surface, 
and  the  creatures  living  there  are  not  much  affected  by  the  changing  of 
the  seasons.  The  same  thing  seems  to  be  true,  to  a  great  extent,  of  the 
fresh-water  sponges  and  the  infusoria  that  crowd  our  ponds  and  ditches. 
These  microscopic  beings,  standing  on  the  borderland  between  plants  and 
animals,  have  wonderful  hardihood,  reviving  after  becoming  as  dry  as 
sand  in  a  hot  oven,  and  proving  equally  defiant  of  snow  and  ice.  You 
may  collect  them  as  abundantly  in  February  as  in  May.-  Their  com- 
panions, the  minute,  transparent  entomostracans — lowly  relatives  of  the 
crabs — stand  the  cold  equally  well,  though  some  species  never  live  longer 
than  from  their  birth  in  spring  until  after  they  have  laid  their  eggs  in 
the  fall. 

As  for  the  worms — I  mean  the  true  worms — they  survive  the  winter 
buried  snugly  in  the  mud ;  while  the  water-spiders,  that  come  next  to 
them  in  the  scale,  keep  comfortable  by  sleeping  in  a  little  globule  of  air, 
and  clinging  to  a  weed-stalk  or  a  sunken  stone.  This  globule  of  air  they 
are  able  to  carry  down  beneath  the  water  with  them,  because  their  bodies 
are  clothed  with  long  hairs.  To  all  this  small  water -life,  indeed,  the 
winter  puts  little  or  no  check.  When  you  rise  to  a  somewhat  more 
highly  organized  and  more  sensitive  class  of  creatures,  the  insects — most 
of  which  live  out  of  the  water,  at  least  after  they  are  fully  grown — you 
find  that  winter  is  dreaded  and  guarded  against. 

The  best  that  many  insects  can  do,  to  be  sure,  is  to  die  at  the  approach 
of  cold  weather ;  but  in  this  case  eggs  have  been  laid  where  it  is  hoped 
they  may  be  safe,  or  else  the  young  in  some  stage,  ceasing  to  grow,  have 
retired  to  sleep  away  the  long,  dull  days  until  the  April  sun  shall  wake 
them  up.  The  bark  of  all  the  trees  in  the  forest  and  orchard  harbor 


THE   STRUGGLE  FOR  EXISTENCE  "IN  WINTER. 


TORPIDITY   AMONG  INSECTS.  61 

multitudes  of  such  young  insects ;  they  hide  under  the  leaves,  nestle  in 
rotten  wood,  burrow  in  loose  earth,  creep  into  snug  crannies,  sink  beneath 
the  water,  and,  in  almost  every  situation  you  can  think  of,  as  eggs  or 
grubs  or  chrysalids,  are  dead  to  all  the  chilling  blasts,  until  the  first 
warm  breath  of  real  spring  re-vivifies  their  motionless  forms. 

Yet  great  numbers  of  adult  insects  remain  alive  through  the  winter, 
and  some  of  them  require  very  little  encouragement  to  venture  out  of 
their  beds  on  thawing  days.  The  great  order  of  beetles  is  an  example 
of  this,  and  thousands  of  small  spiders  may  often  be  seen  running  over 
the  snow  during  a  "warm  spell"  in  midwinter.  Nor  ought  the  appear- 
ance of  butterflies  at  the  holidays  to  excite  our  wonder.  Several  species 
of  the  genus  Vanessa,  especially  V.  antiopa  and  V.  progne,  spend  the 
season  under  logs,  ledges  of  rock,  etc.,  and  the  appearance  of  a  warm 
sunny  day  will  bring  them  into  activity,  when  they  may  be  seen  flitting 
about,  often  in  large  numbers.  The  delicacy  of  these  creatures  does  not 
seem  to  prevent  their  standing  severe  cold.  Arctic  species  exist,  and  but- 
terflies and  moths  may  be  found  upon  the  freezing,  stormy  peaks  of  the 
highest  mountain-ranges.  A  specimen  of  Pliilampelus  labruscoB,  a  large 
green  moth  belonging  to  the  Sphingidce,  common  in  South  America  and 
the  Antilles,  and  rarely  taken  in  the  United  States,  was  found  alive,  fresh 
and  beautiful,  in  Fairbury,  Illinois,  on  January  8,  1874,  after  a  severely 
cold  period,  which  was  followed  by  fearful  winds  from  the  south,  causing 
heavy  rains  and  thunder-storms.  The  southerly  winds,  of  course,  explained 
the  presence  of  the  tropical  insect,  but  its  hardihood  was  noticeable. 

A  large  amount  of  information  on  this  general  subject  is  to  be  found 
in  Mr.  S.  H.  Scudder's  valuable  book,  "  Butterflies,"  chapter  viii.,  headed 
Seasonal  Changes  and  Histories. 

When,  therefore,  frosts  and  heavy  storms  begin,  such  insects  as  do 
not  propose  to  die  that  year  hide  away  in  warm  nooks,  crawl  behind  the 
loose  bark  of  trees,  or  poke  their  way  underneath  old  logs  in  the  woods, 
where  they  find  hosts  of  minute  companions.  When  it  gets  too  cold  for 
them  to  wriggle,  they  go  to  sleep  arid  remain  so  until  warmth  returns, 
no  matter  how  long  the  frosts  may  hold  fast.  This  is  called  becoming 
dormant  or  torpid,  and  another  prominent  instance  of  it  among  lowly 
animals  is  in  the  case  of  the  snails. 

As  cold  weather  approaches,  the  snail  crawls  under  a  half-buried  stick 
or  stone,  and  attaching  himself  to  it,  aperture  upward,  by  forcing  out  a 
little  glue  at  the  edge  of  the  shell,  throws  a  curtain  of  mucus  across  the 
aperture.  This  quickly  hardens  into  a  kind  of  drum-head,  and,  later,  a 
second,  or  even  a  third,  is  formed  inside  of  it.  Through  these  curtains 


62  TORPIDITY  AMONG  MOLLUSKS. 

no  air  can  pass  out  from  or  into  the  shell,  and  its  occupant  settles  down 
to  undisturbed  repose.  The  circulation  of  his  blood  seems  quite  to  cease, 
and  it  cannot  be  detected  that  he  breathes — at  least  a  chemical  test  will 
show  that  the  air  within  the  shell  is  as  pure  as  that  outside.  It  is  wonder- 
ful what  extremes  of  temperature  these  little  creatures  are  able  to  bear. 
The  fiercest  heat  of  summer  does  not  harm  them,  nor  excessive  cold. 
Professor  Yen-ill,  of  Yale  College,  told  me  the  other  day  that  he  once 


THICK-SHELLED   PALUDIN^E. 


placed  eighteen  snails  in  a  box  containing  sand  two  or  three  inches  in 
depth,  and  left  it  exposed  in  his  garden  during  the  winter.  The  mercury 
went  to  twenty  degrees  below  zero,  yet  in  the  spring  half  of  them  were 
alive,  though  they  must  have  been  frozen  solid  many  times. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  bubble  of  air  with  which  the  water-spider 
surrounds  himself  in  his  torpid  rest  under  the  ice  of  the  pond.  If  you 
should  break  in  the  drum-head  of  the  snail  he  would  freeze  to  death;  and 
if  you  draw  the  air  out  of  the  bubble  around  the  spider,  he  will  drown 
before  he  awakes.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  the  safety  of  both,  though 
neither  seems  to  breathe  it ;  perhaps  it  serves  as  a  kind  of  blanket,  within 
which  snails  and  other  little  creatures  are  able  to  pass  without  exhaustion 
the  long,  cold  months,  during  which,  if  active,  they  would  be  unable  to 
get  any  proper  food,  and  therefore  would  starve  to  death. 

Some  snails,  however,  seem  to  hibernate  very  little.  Thus  the  small, 
glassy  mollusk,  Vitrina,  has  often  been  seen  crawling  about  when  there 
was  snow  on  the  ground.  It  is  perhaps  in  consequence  of  this  hardihood 
that  it  extends  its  wanderings  into  polar  regions,  and  can  be  collected 
upon  very  high  mountain-tops.  I  have  seen  it  lively  in  the  high  sierras 
of  Colorado,  when  the  grass  was  stiff  and  white  with  frost,  all  the  brooks 


THE   WINTER  RETREAT  OF  THE  FISHES.  63 

silent  under  a  sheet  of  new  ice,  and  not  another  mollusk  of  any  sort  to 
be  found  moving. 

Water  mollusks,  such  as  the  river -mussels,  the  coil-shells,  and  the 
thick-shelled  Paludince,  do  not  need  to  hibernate,  because  they  are  pro- 
tected by  the  water  always  flowing  over  them,  and  need  only  sink  in  the 
mud  or  go  to  a  deeper  part  of  the  stream. 

After  the  invertebrates  come  in  regular  order  the  fishes,  which  are 
affected  only  slightly  by  wintry  rigors.  The  waters  frequented  by 
many  of  the  fishes  of  our  inland  streams  are  often  only  shallow  rills, 
that  go  nearly  dry  in  the  fall.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that  the  trout, 
shiners,  sun  fish,  minnows,  darters,  and  the  like,  let  themselves  often  get 
caught  by  the  ice  at  the  head-waters  of  these  small  streams,  for  there  the 
ice  would  freeze  fast  to  the  bottom  and  might  remain  so  for  several 
months.  Nevertheless  they  may  do  so,  and  would  no  doubt  survive  it, 
since  some  of  them  are. accustomed  to  bury  themselves  deep  in  the  sand 
and  mud  at  all  seasons,  and  so  can  get  along  on  a  small  and  impure  sup- 
ply of  water;  another  of  their  habits  is  to  congregate  about  springs  bub- 
bling up  in  the  bottom  of  the  stream.  Moreover,  experiments  show  that 
fishes  may  be  frozen  into  a  block  of  ice,  and  still  come  out  all  right  when 
their  prison  thaws  away  from  them.  Thus  it  happens  that  small  fishes, 
overtaken  by  sudden  hard  frosts,  could  be  frozen  into  the  solid  ice  or 
more  solid  sand  of  a  brook-head,  and  remain  there  as  stiff  and  dead  as 
sticks  from  December  to  March,  yet  prove  alive  and  well  enough  when 
the  April  sun  honeycombs  the  ice  and  wrakes  them  into  new  life.  This 
is  a  stoppage  of  vitality — a  temporary  death — somewhat  different  from 
torpidity ;  moreover,  there  seems  no  limit  to  the  time  a  fish  might  re- 
main thus  congealed  and  still  recover,  since  no  bodily  waste  goes  on  dur- 
ing his  confinement. 

The  rule  among  fishes,  however,  is  to  run  away  from  the  shallows 
as  the  chill  of  approaching  winter  begins  to  find  them  out,  and  to  seek 
waters  deep  enough  to  insure  their  not  being  frozen  to  the  bottom.  Un- 
derneath the  ice  the  water  is  none  too  cold  for  their  comfort,  the  bottom 
is  free  for  them  to  forage  upon,  plants,  becoming  greener  and  greener  as 
spring  advances,  give  the  vegetable-feeding  species  dainty  meals  of  ever- 
freshening  sprouts,  and  various  enemies,  such  as  birds  and  boys,  are  shut 
off  from  harming  them.  The  amount  of  food  consumed,  however,  is  very 
small.  Thus,  under  the  solid  and  storm-swept  plain  which  covers  the  lake 
and  broad  river,  there  is  lived  a  peaceful,  happy,  industrious  life  in  the 
greenish  twilight  of  undisturbed  depths. 


64  SALAMANDERS,  TOADS,  AND  FROGS. 

As  for  the  fishes  of  salt-water,  they  go  to  unknown  abysses  and  dis- 
tances, returning  when  spring  opens  to  ascend  the  rivers  and  revisit  their 
old  haunts.  It  may  be  said  of  fishes  generally,  therefore,  that  they  spend 
their  winters  in  deep  and  comparatively  warm  water,  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  ice  and  cold  which  chains  the  brooks  and  shallow  ponds. 

Next  to  be  mentioned  is  the  class  of  half  water,  half  land  animals, 
called  Batrachia,  after  the  Greek  name  of  the  frog.  The  batrachians 
include  those  repulsive,  lizard-shaped,  flabby  creatures,  haunting  western 
and  southern  streams,  which  are  called  sirens,  water-dogs,  and  mud-pup- 
pies;  the  more  graceful  salamanders,  newts,  efts,  and  tritons;  and,  as 
the  highest  division,  the  frogs,  toads,  and  tree  -  peepers,  the  ''tadpoles" 
of  which  lose  their  tails  and  their  lizard-like  form  when  they  become  of 
full  age. 

Few  of  these  animals  live  in  deep,  clear  water;  the  great  majority 
haunt  muddy  streams  and  marshes,  or  else  spend  most  of  their  time  on 
dry  land.  Their  food  is  obtained  either  from  the  water  or  from  insects, 
and  cold  weather  cuts  off  the  supply  in  both  cases.  It  is  necessary,  there- 
fore, as  with  the  snails,  that  they  should  be  able  to  survive  the  winter 
without  eating,  and  they  do  so  in  pretty  much  the  same  way  as  the  snails, 
by  creeping  into  the  mud  at  the  bottom  or  on  the  margin  of  streams  and 
ponds,  and  going  into  a  half-torpid  sleep.  Some  of  the  salamander-like 
batrachians  can  live  wholly  in  the  water,  being  provided  with  gills  like 
fishes.  These,  therefore,  can  retain  their  activity  where  the  water  is  deep 
enough  to  protect  the  bottom  from  freezing,  and,  as  they  live  mainly  in 
southern  streams,  they  know  little  about  cold  weather;  otherwise  they 
seem  to  hide  away  among  the  roots  of  aquatic  herbage.  Toads  must  have 
air  to  breathe,  and  hence  could  not  exist  underneath  ice,  except  in  a  state 
of  torpor,  where  breathing  is  suspended ;  but  frogs  are  capable  of  skin- 
respiration,  and  can  live  under  water  indefinitely  if  food  is  supplied. 

Their  hibernation,  whether  in  the  mud,  as  in  the  case  of  frogs;  in 
holes  in  the  earth,  in  cellars,  or  under  old  logs,  as  toads  do ;  or  in  the 
rotten  wood  inside  hollow  trees,  which  some  of  the  tree-toads  are  sup- 
posed to  choose,  is  not  so  strict  and  lasting  as  it  is  with  snails  and  insects. 
It  depends  only  on  the  degree  of  cold,  so  that  it  not  unfrequently  happens 
that  the  piping  of  frogs  will  be  heard  here  and  there  in  midwinter  when 
the  snow  has  left  the  ground  and  the  sun  thaws  out  the  frost.  But  a  chill- 
ing wind  shuts  their  voices  up  again  until  early  spring,  when  thej7  are  the 
first  to  respond  to  the  invitation  of  the  new  season.  There  is  reason  to 
believe,  however,  that  all  the  frog-like  batrachians  do  not  live  over  from 


WINTER   SLEEP  OF  TURTLES  AND  LIZARDS.  65 

year  to  year,  by  hibernating  daring  the  winter.  For  instance,  the  small 
"  peeper,"  or  cricket-frog,  which  is  so  noisy  early  in  spring,  lays  its  eggs 
in  April,  and  soon  after  the  greater  number  of  them  die.  The  tadpoles 
pass  gradually  into  the  adult  or  tailless  condition,  and,  in  the  haunts  of 
the  parents,  which  for  four  months  were  nearly  or  quite  tenantless,  the 
offspring  appear  late  in  August.  These  hibernate,  to  reappear  in  the  fol- 
lowing spring,  sing  for  a  few  weeks,  lay  their  eggs,  and  die.  True  frogs, 
like  the  wood-frog  (Rana  sylvatica),  an  excellent  portrait  of  which  is 
shown  in  the  left-hand  figure  of  the  frontispiece,*  live  for  five  or  six  years. 

Passing  to  the  turtles  and  tortoises,  we  may  say  of  those  that  live  in 
the  sea  that  they  migrate  to  deep  waters,  like  the  fishes ;  and  of  those 
dwelling  in  fresh  waters  that  they  pass  the  winter  asleep  under  the  shore- 
mud  as  do  the  frogs,  unless  they  live  far  enough  south  to  make  hiberna- 
tion needless.  The  land  tortoises  (which,  by  the  way,  make  most  inter- 
esting pets)  you  will  find  burrowing  down  into  loose  dry  earth  as  winter 
comes  on,  where  they  sleep  undisturbed  until  spring.  A  warm  noonday 
often  arouses  them,  when  they  will  creep  languidly  out,  drag  their  drowsy 
forms  into  some  sunny  spot,  and  doze  until  the  evening  shadows  remind 
them  that  it  is  best  to  seek  once  more  the  protection  of  their  snug  earthen 
blankets,  where  perhaps  they  will  remain  invisible  for  another  month  or 
two.  Usually  they  dig  down  to  a  considerable  depth,  but  I  knew  of  one 
case  lately  where  a  box-tortoise,  prevented  from  going  more  than  three 
inches  beneath  the  surface,  survived  a  very  cold  New  England  winter 
without  apparent  harm.  Turtles  and  tortoises  are  much  less  common  in 
the  colder  than  in  the  warmer  latitudes,  however. 

The  last  remark  is  true  as  well  of  the  race  of  lizards  and  skinks;  but 
when  they  live  in  a  region  too  frigid  for  their  being  abroad,  they  pass  the 
idle,  cold  days  tucked  up  in  rotten  logs  and  in  warm  woodland  crannies. 

The  great  alligator,  indeed,  though  a  resident  of  almost  tropical 
swamps,  is  so  sensitive  to  the  cold  that  he  hides  away  under  the  well- 

*  "In  the  retired  portions  of  our  upland  woods,  far  away  from  the  muddy  ponds  and 
stagnant  puddles,  and  close  to  the  leafy  haunts  of  squirrels  and  chipmunks,  if  it  be  even  a 
little  damp,  we  may  chance  upon  a  pretty  frog,  which  in  color,  habits,  and  disposition  is 
unlike  all  others.  It  is,  literally,  quick  as  a  flash,  and  for  some  reason  has  a  great  dread 
of  mankind  ;  at  least  it  takes  wonderful  leaps  and  plenty  of  them,  whenever  any  one  hap- 
pens to  come  too  near.  I  know  of  no  harder  task  than  to  chase  a  wood-frog  over  uneven 
ground. 

"Except  in  April,  when  they  congregate  at  some  neighboring  ponds  and  lay  their 
eggs,  these  frogs  frequent  the  woods  the  year  through,  feeding  on  flies  and  such  small 
fry  until  frost  comes,  when  they  burrow  some  two  feet  in  damp  earth,  and  there  they 
remain  until  the  weather  has  become  fairly  spring-like.  "—DR.  ABBOTT. 

5 


66  ALLEGED   HIBERNATION  OF  BIRDS. 

caked  mud,  and  is  rarely  seen  between  Thanksgiving  and  Easter,  and 
then  only  in  the  sunniest  weather. 

Lastly,  there  are  the  snakes.  Like  other  reptiles,  though  cold-blooded, 
they  are  most  common  in  hot  regions,  where  no  dread  of  snow  interrupts 
the  year's  business  and  pleasure.  Of  what  they  do  with  themselves  in 
winter  we  really  have  little  information,  beyond  the  general  knowledge 
that  they  hide  away  in  hollow  logs,  underneath  leaves,  and  in  other  snug 
quarters  in  the  woods  or  rocky  fields,  occasionally  appearing  on  warm  days 
in  a  stupid  condition.  It  appears,  however,  that  many  serpents  have  a 
habit  of  entangling  together  in  a  horridly  entwined  mass  of  from  three  or 
four  to  a  score  of  individuals,  and  thus  lying  in  the  midst  of  brush-piles, 
stra\v-stacks,  and  so  forth,  until  they  separate  in  the  spring.  This  habit 
has  been  observed  in  several  American  species  of  serpents,  but,  so  far  as  I 
know,  no  one  has  been  able  to  explain  it  to  the  satisfaction  of  naturalists. 

I  myself,*  and  others,  have  written  so  much  about  the  expedients  by 
which  the  feathered  people  of  the  woods  meet  the  inclement  season,  that 
I  fear  the  briefest  sketch  of  this  part  of  the  subject  may  seem  trite  to  you ; 
yet  if  I  should  neglect  the  large  and  wide-awake  class  Aves,  one  might 
justly  think  I  had  left  much  unsaid. 

It  was  an  old  tradition  that  certain  birds,  such  as  the  rail  and  the  bank- 
swallow,  hibernated,  sinking  into  the  mud  in  the  bottom  of  ponds,  and  ly- 
ing there  in  a  torpor,  like  so  many  turtles.  This  has  no  proof,  I  think,  to 
support  it,  and  may  be  set  aside  as  false.  But  though  for  many  good  rea- 
sons we  may  dismiss  the  old  stories  as  erroneous,  there  is  a  reasonable 
doubt  in  some  cases  whether  a  few  birds — notably  the  chimney-swift— 
may  not  lie  dormant  in  clefts  of  the  rocks,  in  hollow  trees,  or  under  the 
shelter  of  warm  buildings,  as  do  many  quadrupeds  in  underground  re- 
treats. The  reasonableness  of  this  has  been  argued,  and  some  novel  and 
suggestive  evidence  towards  it  has  lately  been  brought  forward  by  Dr.  0. 
C.  Abbott.f  Nevertheless  it  has  not  yet  been  at  all  proved  that  anything 
approaching  real  hibernation  in  a  cold  climate  has  occurred,  or.  could  be 
endured  by  any  single  bird  ;  and  up  to  the  present  time  it  is  better  to 
believe  that  our  winged  visitors  come  and  go  with  a  suddenness  and 
stealthiness  so  great  as  to  make  it  seem  almost  as  though  they  rose  out 
of  the  ground. 


*" Friends  Worth  Knowing."     New  York:  Harper  &  Brothers,  1881.     Illustrated. 
Chapter  V.,  Our  Winter  Birds,  pp.  106-140. 

f  Science  Gossip  (London),  January  to  March,  1883. 


BIRDS  TO   BE   SEEN  IN  JANUARY.  67 

Birds,  it  must  be  remembered,  can  move  about  better  than  any  other 
sort  of  animal ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  no  class  in  the  whole  animal  world 
is  so  sensitive,  as  a  whole,  to  changes  in  temperature.  Moreover,  the  food 
of  most  birds  being  fruit,  seeds  of  weeds,  and  insects,  is  such  as  winter 
cuts  short  in  northern  latitudes.  They  must  starve,  therefore,  or  else  go 
far  enough  southward  to  find  something  to  eat. 

The  number  and  variety  of  the  birds  to  be  seen  in  winter  in  your  dis- 
trict, wherever  it  may  be,  will  depend  on  how  much  food  you  have  for 
them ;  other  things  influence  the  matter  somewhat,  of  course,  but  this 
question  of  provender  comes  first. 

In  the  far  polar  regions  no  birds  can  stay  through  midwinter  on 
account  of  the  darkness.  In  the  nearer  arctic  lands,  like  Labrador,  Janu- 
ary sees  only  the  wildest  of  sea-birds — ice-gulls,  guillemots,  auks,  etc.— 
which  exist  by  fishing  in  the  open  sea.  Maine  and  Canada  count  more 
gulls  and  fishing-ducks;  and,  as  inland  visitors,  the  snowy  owl,  north- 
ern strangers  like  the  wax-wing,  the  Canada  jay,  the  pine-finch,  and  the 
cross- bills;  two  or  three  sparrows,  and  a  few  grouse.  Coming  farther 
south,  into  the  northern  part  of  the  United  States,  the  snow  is  rarely  so 
deep  or  so  lasting  as  to  bury  all  the  seed-bearing  weeds  and  bushes,  or 
so  severe  as  to  prevent  insect-life,  at  least  in  a  dormant  shape,  from  being 
accessible  to  hungry  birds. 

Although  the  majority  of  birds  seen  in  the  summer  are  absent,  a  pretty 
large  number  therefore  are  to  be  found  in  the  northern  as  well  as  the 
southern  States  through  all  the  cold  weather — some  strange,  especially 
in  midwinter,  but  most  of  them  familiar  the  year  round.  I  need  not  name 
them  to  you;  go  out  and  look  them  up  for  yourself;  find  how  pleasant 
and  exhilarating  a  thing  a  winter's  walk  in  the  fields  may  be ! 

Then  if  you  go  so  far  south  that  it  rarely  snows  at  all,  and  cold  winds 
are  rare,  as,  for  instance,  into  middle  Georgia,  perhaps  you  will  say,  "I 
suppose  you  will  see  all  the  birds  northerners  know  in  summer,  and  no 
arctic  strangers  ?" 

No,  my  friend  ;  that  doesn't  follow.  Many  of  our  small  summer 
friends,  having  begun  their  southward  flight  in  the  fall,  do  not  stop  in 
middle  Georgia,  or  even  in  Florida,  but  never  rest  till  they  have  gone 
clear  to  Central  America  and  the  West  Indies.  One  sees  not  only  more 
birds  but  more  kinds,  to  be  sure,  in  the  southern  than  in  the  northern 
or  middle  States  in  winter,  but  he  doesn't  see  all  that  he  expects  to 
come  back  northward  next  spring.  This  is  a  curious  feature  in  the  his- 
tory of  winter  ornithology,  for  it  is  just  as  true  of  Europe  as  it  is  of 
America. 


68  LODGING  AND  FOOD   OF  WINTER  BIRDS. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  chapter  I  have  given  a  hint  of  how  small  land- 
birds  are  able  to  survive  our  rigorous  winter  climate.  They  hide  away, 
when  it  storms,  in  the  thick  boughs  of  close  evergreen  bushes,  in  hollow 
trees,  and  in  sheltered  nooks  among  loose  rocks  and  under  overhanging 
banks;  or,  often,  they  creep  into  hay-mows,  and  under  the  warm  eaves  or 
inside  the  shutters  of  our  houses.  As  for  the  water-birds,  they  are  too 
hardy  to  need  any  such  protection  ;  and  there  are  some  land  species,  like 
the  snow-flake,  that  seem  to  enjoy  the  wildest  weather.  It  is  not  snow 
and  dry  cold,  indeed,  which  make  birds  suffer,  but  chilling  days  of  rain 
and  sleet. 

For  food,  the  winter  birds  seek  the  natural  granaries  left  for  them 
along  the  country  roads  and  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  the  weeds 
grow  dense,  each  plant  bearing  aloft  a  cluster  of  seeds  ready  to  be  picked ; 
or  they  search  diligently  about  the  trunks  and  branches  of  the  trees,  pull- 
ing dormant  insects  from  snug  crannies,  arid  tearing  away  slabs  of  loose 
bark  in  order  to  get  at  the  eggs  and  grubs  that  lie  underneath.  The  lit- 
tle birds  have  no  lack  of  food,  usually,  but  the  larger  flesh-eating  fellows 
have  a  hard  row  to  hoe  in  a  cold  winter.  The  crows  are  driven  to  the 
sea-shore  after  shell-fish,  the  shrikes  must  use  extra  skill  in  seizing  tit- 
mouses  and  sparrows,  hawks  and  owls  often  go  hungry  to  bed,  for  much 
of  the  small  prey  upon  which  they  usually  feed  keep  safe  in-doors. 

Thus  it  happens  that  an  unusually  severe  season  is  always  marked 
by  an  extra  number  of  northern  visitors  and  fewer  of  our  own  resident 
birds,  since  both  are  forced  southward  of  their  usual  line  by  the  extremity 
of  the  weather.  It  is  a  matter  of  unquestioned  record,  moreover,  that  a 
very  cold  winter,  like  that  of  1880-81,  witnesses  the  freezing  to  death  and 
starvation  of  thousands  of  birds  unable  to  get  away  from  or  endure  its 
rigors.  As  a  rule,  however,  their  wits  and  activity  keep  the  birds  of  our 
winter  woods  not  only  alive  but  apparently  very  happy ;  and,  in  settled 
parts  of  the  country,  more  and  more  are  spending  their  winters  with  us 
than  formerly,  since  they  find  themselves  able  to  get  plenty  of  food  about 
a  farm,  when,  if  it  were  wild  land,  there  would  be  little  or  none. 

We  have  watched  "fin  and  feather"  through  the  bad  half  of  the  year, 
and  now  let  us  see  how  "fur"  stands  it.  Here,  as  before,  the  amount  of 
change  which  takes  place  in  the  habits  of  four-footed  beasts,  large  and 
small,  depends  on  whether  the  place  where  they  dwell  lies  in  a  cold  or  in 
a  warm  latitude,  and  also  pn  what  animal  you  have  in  mind  ;  for  here 
there  is  less  uniformity  in  respect  to  the  way  they  meet  winter  than  ob- 
tains among  the  humbler  classes,  where  individuality  is  less  developed. 


WORK  FOR  THE   PLAYFUL   'POSSUM. 


•N.S, 


If  we  take  our  list  in  regular  or> 
der  from  low  to  high,  we  must  begin 
with  the  opossum,  which  does  not  exist 
far  towards  the  north,  so  that  lie  doesn't 
often  encounter  very  severe  cold ;  when  he 
does,  it  seerns  only  to  make  him  more  dili- 
gent. During  the  spring  and  summer  he 
feeds  very  largely  on  insects;  but  as  autumn 
ripens  the  wild  fruits,  and  winter  preserves 
them,  while  cutting  off  his  beetles  and  fresh 
grubs,  he  becomes  a  voracious  vegetable-feed- 
er. Stealing  through  the  orchards  and  thick- 
ets (of  the  middle  States,  at  least),  he  finds 
and  devours  great  numbers  of  persimmons, 
gum- berries,  frosted  apples,  and  like  deli- 
cacies, varying  this  fare  with  fat,  white 
larvae  of  beetles  dug  from  rotten  logs.  Dr. 
Abbott  tells  me  that  in  New  Jer- 
sey he  has  seen  'possums  run- 
ning  over  the  snow  in  ^u 
broad  daylight  when  the 
thermometer  marked  zero. 

Hares  find  the  winter  a 
poor  time  for  them,  not  only 
because   the}'  have   to 
work  harder  then  for 
a  living,  but  because 
the  farmer- boy  sets 
his  traps  in  the  very 
places  the}'  like  best  to 
go,  making  poor  Bun- 


70        THE  BURROWS  AND  GALLERIES  OF  THE  RODENTS. 

ny's  life  a  constant  dread  of  being  suddenly  snatched  up  by  a  spring-snare, 
or  half  crushed  under  a  figure-four.  There  is  a  kind  of  hare  which  lives 
out-of-doors  all  winter,  even  in  the  farthest  arctic  lands,  when  it  would 
seem  that  everything  was  buried  in  snow.  The  little  fellow  knows  how 
to  get  down  to  the  grass-roots,  however,  and  never  wanders  too  far  from 
the  stunted  red  willows  that  grow  along  the  river  banks,  and  whose  bark 
keeps  him  alive.  Bark,  indeed,  forms  the  staple  of  hare  food  in  winter, 
as  you  will  quickly  learn  if  you  plant  a  young  orchard. 

The  field-mice,  however,  which  are  not  always  asleep  from  Decem- 
ber to  March,  do  a  great  deal  of  the  damage  charged  to  the  hares.  The 
mice  have  galleries  under  the  grass-roots  and  the  hollow  roots  of  old  trees, 
where  they  store  away  supplies  of  grain,  seeds  of  grasses  and  weeds,  etc., 
upon  which  to  live  until  spring.  Not  content  with  this,  however,  thev 
push  tunnels  in  all  directions  under  the  snow,  and  nibble  the  tender  young 
bark  of  small  trees.  The  wood-rats  do  not  make  underground  galleries, 
but  pile  up  in  the  woods  a  hollow  heap  of  sticks  and  leaves,  ^where  they 
store  their  nuts  and  seeds  and  endure  the  cold  weather;  while  the  house 
of  the  musk-rat,  constructed  of  marsh-grass  and  rushes,  stands  two  or  three 
feet  high  above  the  reedy  strip  at  low-water  mark,  and  is  able  to  bear 
your  weight.  This  house  has  a  door-way  beneath  the  water,  so  that  the 
occupant  can  pass  out  and  in,  even  though  the  river  be  covered  with  ice, 
and  so  reach  the  aquatic  plants  and  the  Unio  clams  on  which  he  lives. 
Sometimes  the  musk-rats  make  burrows  in  the  banks  instead  of  houses 
outside.  How  the  beaver  builds  himself  a  strong  winter's  home  inside  his 
artificial  pond,  or  inhabits  a  snug  burrow  in  quiet  all  winter,  is  also  so 
well  known  to  you  that  I  can  hasten  on  to  the  woodchuck,  gophers,  and 
chipmunks. 

These  gnawers  dig  burrows  and  make  galleries  underground  like  larger 
mice,  and  like  them  stay  therein  during  the  bad  weather,  tucking  their 
furry  tails  a  little  closer  about  them  in  freezing  days,  and  on  very  pleas- 
ant ones  coming  out  to  get  a  bit  of  sweet  air.  You  know  the  old  tale 
about  the  woodchuck's  showing  himself  on  St.  Valentine's  day,  to  see 
whether  he  can  venture  to  stay  above  ground  "for  good,"  or  must  go 
back  for  another  month. 

The  various  ground-squirrels,  gophers,  spermophiles,  and  their  kin,  all 
lay  up  in  their  subterranean  burrows  stores  of  seeds  and  other  food ;  but 
they  speedily  fall  into  so  lethargic  a  condition  of  almost  perpetual  sleep 
that  these  are  not  greatly  drawn  upon,  so  that  the  comparatively  small 
amount  gathered  in  the  autumn  is  able  to  last  through  to  spring. 

The  arboreal  squirrels — true  squirrels — make  for  themselves  snuggeries 


HAPPY   INDEPENDENCE   OF  THE   SQUIRRELS. 


71 


up 

V 


in    hollow   trees,  or    ball- 
shaped    nests    among   the 
branches,  where  they  can  find 
good  protection  from  the  weath- 
er when  it  is  at  its  worst,  if  they 
choose  to  avail  themselves  of  it,  which  is 
not  as  often  or  as  continuously  as  one 
would    expect   of   them.      The    flying- 
squirrel  seems  to  lay  up  the  least  provision 
in  the  cupboards  of  the  decayed   tree  when 
he  and  his   muny  companions  take  up   their 
winter-quarters.     Hence  he  is  often  abroad  for- 
aging, and  one  of  his  favorite  tricks  is  to  enter 
the  garrets  of  granaries  and  houses  in  search  of 
corn  and  small  nuts. 

The   red  squirrel,  or  "chickaree,"   on   the 
other  hand,  is  the  most  provident  of  the  whole     ^ 
race,  collecting   in  its   favorite   hollow  tree     -^ 
large  hoards  of  nuts,  acorns,  corn,  seeds,  and     ^  N 
so  on,  "wherewith  to  console  it  and  sustain 
itself  in  the  uncomfortable  season  of  frost  and 
snow."     Sometimes,  according  to  Ken- 
nicott,  these  larders  are  made  under 
fallen  logs,  or  even  in  holes  in 
the  ground ;   but  it  must  be      j 

remembered   that   Kennicott 

/.. 

was  writing  of  the 
prairies  of  Illinois ; 


f 


72  WINTER  REFUGES  OF  MOLES  AND  SHREWS. 

in  a  wooded  region  such  exceptions  would  be  extremely  rare.  "In  con- 
sequence of  his  good  cheer,  this  squirrel  is  seen  actively  scampering  about 
in  cold  weather,  when  his  hungry  cousins  cannot  pluck  up  courage  to 
leave  their  warm  abodes  in  search  of  food." 

By  "hungry  cousins"  I  mean  the  gray  and  the  fox  squirrels. 
Living  in  the  hollows  of  old  trees  and  in  woven  nests  of  leaves  and 
grass,  they  do  not  hide  in  their  homes  food  for  winter  use,  but  bury  great 
numbers  of  acorns  and  nuts,  one  by  one,  under  the  leaves  all  about  the 
neighborhood.  These  are  dug  up;  and  no  matter  how  deep  the  snow 
may  be,  the  squirrel  knows,  or  has  a  way  of  finding  out,  precisely  where 
each  morsel  is  hidden.  It  is  interesting  and  amusing  to  see  them  dive 
into  the  fleecy  drift,  disappearing  from  sight  in  a  twinkling,  to  reappear 
a  second  or  two  later  with  a  nut  in  their  claws.  It  has  been  said  usually 
that  they  remembered  where  each  specimen  had  been  buried;  but  from 
their  behavior  I  do  not  believe  this,  for  they  seem  regularly  to  seek  out 
the  place  of  each  deposit,  and  to  know  for  certain  when  they  have  found 
it.  Whether  this  is  done  through  their  sense  of  smell,  as  their  actions 
seem  to  indicate,  or  by  some  other  means,  remains  to  be  proved. 

When  the  snow  is  very  deep,  however,  the  squirrels  do  not  depend 
much  upon  these  buried  stores,  but  search  diligently  fur  such  nuts  and 
mast  as  may  still  cling  to  the  branches,  and  they  eat  many  berries,  buds, 
or  even  bark.  Sleet  and  an  icy  crust  are  their  worst  causes  of  dread,  and 
when  the  woods  are  encased  in  icy  raiment  the  squirrels  are  often  hard 
pressed  for  sustenance. 

Shrews  and  moles,  living  chiefly  underground,  have  a  natural  refuge 
from  inclemency  of  climate,  and  none  of  them  become  torpid.  The  mole 
(I  mean  the  shrew-mole,  Scalops  aquaticus)  appears  to  be  less  active  iii 
winter  than  in  summer,  but  this  may  be  partly  because  he  is  then  obliged 
to  burrow  so  deeply  beneath  the  frozen  top-soil  that  his  work  is  imper- 
ceptible. Godman  remarks  that  at  that  season  moles  resort  to  the  vicin- 
ity of  streams  where  the  ground  is  warmer,  and  says  that  in  the  Southern 
States  traces  of  them  may  be  found  in  the  fields  all  the  year  round.  The 
moles,  nevertheless,  are  not  so  hardy,  nor  ever  so  active  in  cool  weather 
as  the  shrews,  which,  notwithstanding  their  diminutive  size,  wander  to 
far  more  northerly  latitudes,  and  treat  with  defiance  the  most  severe  cold  ; 
these  little  animals,  however,  do  not  force  their  tunnels  through  the  soil, 
as  a  rule,  but  run  galleries  under  the  matted  leaves,  and  make  for  them- 
selves winter  larders  of  seeds  and  dead  insects  beneath  old  logs  and 
refuse-heaps.  The  hibernation  of  the  star-nosed  mole  is  only  partial. 

As  for  the  bats — also  insect-eaters — they  get  so  benumbed  and  torpid 


DROWSY  BATS  AND   WAKEFUL  PORCUPINES. 


73 


when  cold  weather 
k    comes  that  they  hang 
_^      themselves  up  by  the 

hooks  on  their  wings  in 
caves,  and  in  dark  corners  of 
old  buildings,  until  spring;  yet  a 
"thawing  spell"  will  often  bring 
them  out.    I  have  seen  them  flit- 
ting about  in  February  twilights 
as  gayly  as  in  May.    The  porcupine 
spends  the  winter  in  and  about  a 
~     hollow  tree,  whence  he  makes 
;:r     daily    excursions    in   search   of 
food.    This  consists  of  buds  and 
bark,  that  of  the  ash,  hemlock, 
spruce,  and  slippery  elm  be- 
ing special  favorites.   "  Soiue- 
•g\t    times,"  says  Kennicott, " an 
individual  [porcupine]  will 
strip  away  sufficient  bark  to  kill 
a  tree  ;  and  it  has  been  statec 
that  during  one  winter  [in  Il- 
linois] a  hundred  trees  have 
been  destroyed  by  a  single 
porcupine;  moreover,  that 
all  the  young 


74  THE   ASSEMBLAGES   OF   THE   DEEKS. 

trees  on  two  or  three  acres  of  woodland  have  been  killed  by  two  or 
three  of  these  animals.  Usually,  however,  they  are  not  so  destructive, 
and  in  western  New  York  they  rarely  kill  trees  at  all,  though  they 
greatly  injure  them." 

As  for  the  deer,  none  of  them,  you  may  be  sure,  go  to  sleep  in  winter. 
In  the  far  North  they  retreat  from  the  wild  wind-swept  "  barren-grounds," 
where  they  have  been  pasturing,  to  the  protection  of  the  forests.  There 
the  reindeer,  moose,  and  caribou  will  scrape  away  the  snow  in  spaces, 
called  "yards,"  where  they  can  get  at  the  grass,  browse  leaves,  and  lie 
down  without  floundering  in  the  drifts.  The  wall  of  untouched  snow 
about  these  yards  is  sometimes  many  feet  high,  and  the  animals  so  dis- 
like to  leave  them  that  they  grow  thin  and  almost  starved  before  the 
spring  comes.  The  mule-deer  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  find  little  shel- 
tered canons  and  nooks  among  the  foot-hills,  where  the  wind  incessantly 
blows  the  snow  away  from  the  grass,  and  where- overhanging  rocks  or 
clumps  of  thick  spruces  make  a  shelter  at  night.  Th0  mountain  sheep— 
to  whom  winter  is  of  small  consequence — do  the  same  thing  on  the  high 
plateaus  near  the  limit  of  timber  growth. 

Elks  and  antelopes,  like  the  smaller  deer,  often  gather  in  winter  into 
great  herds  of  hundreds  or  even  thousands,  and  roam  on  the  plains  or  in 
the  mountain  valleys,  finding  pastures  from  which  the  dry,  powdery  snow 
has  b'een  blown  away,  and  there  seem  not  to  heed  the  bitter  temperature. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  buffaloes;  but  it  is  at  such  times  that  the  weak 
animals  fall  a  prey  to  famished  wolves,  following  the  herds  as  their  only 
hope  of  food.  Our  Virginian  or  common  eastern  deer  does  not  encounter 
so  tempestuous  or  snowy  winters  as  his  fellows  in  Canada  or  the  Rocky 
Mountains;  yet  he  is  often  driven  by  hunger  to  come  close  to  the  farm- 
house, and  even  to  visit  the  hay- stack.  All  these  deers  have  a  longer, 
warmer  growth  of  hair  in  winter  to  serve  as  an  overcoat,  and  the  fat  they 
amass  in  the  autumn  out  of  the  hearty  living  then  enjoyed  ekes  out  their 
scanty  provender  afterwards. 

Of  bears  we  see  very  little  in  winter,  yet  they  are  more  or  less  abroad. 
Bears  have  sheltered  places  in  the  woods,  particularly  in  a  mountainous 
country,  where  they  can  creep  under  ledges  and  find  a  warm  bed  of  leaves 
that  the  winds  have  drifted  in.  Here  they  curl  up  and  sleep  during  cold 
seasons  until  the  weather  moderates  or  hunger  forces  them  out.  The  old 
books  will  tell  you  that  bears  suck  their  paws  to  keep  alive,  but  they 
must  have  more  substantial  dinners  than  that  or  they  will  starve.  The 
polar  bear  has  the  hardest  time,  and  the  females  of  these  monsters  of 
their  race  often  lie  where  they  are  snowed  under.  It  used  to  be  thought 


HIBERNATION   OF  THE   BEAR. 


that  they  did  this  purposely,  but  it  is  now  known  that  it  is  more  truly 
an  accident.  Sometimes  they  cannot  break  out  of  this  snowy  cavern, 
and  die  of  starvation,  or  are  so  weak  when  their  prison  melts  that  they 
can  hardly  stand.  They  do  not  smother,  because  the  heat  of  the  body 
keeps  a  little  chimney  open  through  the  cave -roof.  Discover- 
ing this,  the  Eskimo  hunter  will  often  dig  down  and 
kill  the  helpless  bear  in  its  bed.  In  precisely  the 


I 


same  way  those  bears  which  remain  abroad 
all  through  the  long  arctic  winter  smell  out 
the  hiding-places  of  the  seals  under  the  snow,  and  break-  fr 

ing  them  in,  seize  the  seal  or  its  young  ones,  unless  they  are 
quick  enough  to  drop  through  the  hole  in  the  ice  ^kept  open  near  by, 
and  so  escape  into  the  water.  Hibernation  is  a  word  applied  more  com- 
monly to  bears  than  to  any  other  kind  of  animal,  but  nowhere  is  the 
phenomenon  more  partial.  Many  baby  bears  are  born  in  the  winter  re- 
treats, but  they  increase  in  size  exceedingly  little  until  late  in  the  spring. 
After  the  bears,  come  forward  the  otters,  skunks,  badgers,  wolverines, 


76  WINTER'S   EFFECT   UPON  FUR  AND   PLUMAGE. 

and  weasels,  each  of  which  could  tell  an  interesting  story  of  its  winter 
life.  The  otter,  an  inhabitant  of  the  water,  and  feeding  on  fish,  keeps  a 
passage  open  to  his  burrow  in  the  bank  and  does  very  well ;  the  fisher- 
marten  is  much  like  him.  The  skunk,  on  the  other  hand,  curls  up  and 
dozes,  with  few  meals,  in  some  warm  nook,  whence  he  now  arid  then 
makes  a  foray  upon  the  farmer's  hen-house,  wilder  food  failing. 

The  badger  has  his  home  underground,  and  behaves  much  like  a 
woodchuck,  but  the  great  wolverine  ranges  about  in  search  of  partridges 
crouching  under  the  spruce  boughs,  hares  asleep  in  their  forms,  ill-pro- 
tected poultry,  and  carrion.  He  is  a  savage,  ugly  beast,  and  annoys  the 
hunters  of  the  northern  woods  and  plains  by  destroying  their  traps  and 
stealing  the  bait.  As  for  the  martens  and  weasels — who  ever  caught  a 
weasel  asleep,  winter  or  summer?  They  have  their  holes  in  the  rocks, 
where  they  go  to  rest  and  get  shelter,  but  they  are  abroad  every  night, 
as  much  in  January  as  in  June,  seeking  prey.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
wolves  and  foxes,  wild-cats  and  panthers,  which  bring  us  to  the  end  of 
the  list  of  North  American  quadrupeds.* 

But  before  closing  this  hasty  review  of  animals  in  their  winter-quar- 
ters, I  must  not  forget  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  many  of  the 
fur-bearing  quadrupeds  the  hair  changes  from  its  summer  brown  to  pure 
white  in  winter.  The  most  notable  instances  of  this  are  the  arctic  hare, 
the  various  weasels,  ermines,  and  martens,  and  the  arctic  fox ;  the  polar 
bear  is  white  all  the  year  around.  The  same  change  affects  the  plumage 
of  several  arctic  birds,  such  as  the  ptarmigan  and  snow-bunting.  In  the 
case  of  all,  however,  this  occurs  only  in  the  most  northerly  examples,  since 
specimens  of  the  same  species  remaining  in  the  south  turn  white  only  to 
a  small  extent,  or  not  at  all,  at  the  approach  of  winter. 

*  Exceptional  seasons  are  marked  by  extraordinary  occurrences  not  only,  but  often 
have  a  lasting  influence  and  effect.  Professor  N.  S.  Shaler  wrote  an  instructive  article 
on  this  head  in  The  American  Naturalist,  vol.  vi.,  1872,  p.  671,  to  which  inquiring  readers 
are  referred. 


VIII. 

AT  A  SEA-SIDE  LABORATORY. 

STUDENTS  of  the  geographical  distribution  of  animals  find  that  the 
key-word  to  their  department  of  science  is  temperature.  That  is  to 
say,  the  most  important  of  all  those  combined  circumstances  of  food,  alti- 
tude, soil,  etc.,  which  affect  the  localization  of  a  species,  or  cause  a  fauna 
to  be  made  up  as  we  find  it  in  any  particular  district,  is  the  matter  of  av- 
erage heat  and  cold.  This  is  particularly  true  of  marine  organisms,  which, 
in  a  general  way,  are  not  only  less  active  in  winter  than  in  summer,  but 
far  more  abundant  near  the  surface — both  in  variety  of  kinds  and  in  num- 
ber of  individuals — than  at  chilly  depths,  and  in  warm  waters  than  in 
northern  and  colder  seas.  The  Gulf  Stream,  therefore,  forms  a  very 
important  factor  in  estimating  the  distribution  of  the  animal  life  of  the 
ocean,  since  its  warm  current  permits  many  a  southern  form  to  wander 
far  to  the  northward  in  its  genial  track ;  just  as,  conversely,  a  range  of 
high  mountains,  such  as  the  Rockies,  enables  many  a  snow-loving  animal 
to  creep  almost  to  tropical  limits  along  the  lofty  ridges,  defying  by  the 
aid  of  cold  altitudes  the  arbitrary  limits  which  latitude  used  to  set  to  the 
"zones"  of  organic  life  that  were  supposed  to  encircle  the  globe. 

There  is  thus  found  to  be  a  startling  difference  in  the  oceanic  fauna 
north  and  south  of  Cape  Cod ;  the  bather  who  has  tried  the  surf  at  Na- 
hant  and  then  at  Newport  needs  no  thermometer  to  understand  the  im- 
mense contrast  of  temperature  between  the  two  coasts.  The  reason  is 
plain :  into  Massachusetts  Bay  pours  the  icy  flood  from  Labrador  and  the 
berg-haunted  banks  of  Newfoundland,  while  the  south  shore  is  washed  by 
the  great  tepid  current  from  the  tropics,  which  the  Cape  swerves  off  un- 
til it  strikes  straight  out  to  sea  to  warm  the  Irish  coast.  North  of  Cape 
Cod,  one  picks  up  on  the  beaches,  and  dredges  from  the  bottom  of  the 
bay,  few  sea-animals  (at  least  of  invertebrates)  except  those  of  arctic  habit, 
and  these  grow  more  abundant  as  he  proceeds  northward  ;  while  he  misses 
dozens  and  dozens  of  species  that  he  knows  may  be  collected  merely  by 
crossing  the  narrow  peninsula  which  has  stood  for  ages,  in  some  shape,  a 


78  SEQUEL  OF  AGASSIZ'S   SCHOOL  AT  PENIKESE. 

barrier  to  the  southward  extension  of  northern  forms,  and  to  the  north- 
ward travel  of  those  animals  whose  home  is  in  the  southern  seas. 

The  naturalist,  then,  who  would  study  to  greatest  advantage  the  pe- 
lagic life  of  our  part  of  the  Atlantic  must  go  south  of  Cape  Cod  ;  and 
if  he  proposes  to  remain  in  New  England,  he  is  practically  restricted  to 
the  mouths  of  Buzzard's  and  Narraganset  bays,  since  the  coast  of  Long 
Island  affords  few  advantages  for  his  pursuit,  and  the  Sound  is  too  land- 
locked. It  was  with  an  appreciation  of  these  facts  that  the  late  Pro- 
fessor Louis  Agassiz  fixed  upon  Penikese  Island,  near  New  Bedford,  Mas- 
sachusetts, as  the  site  of  his  Summer  School  of  Natural  History;  and  the 
profusion  of  species  of  marine  animals  and  plants  procured  there  proved 
his  wisdom,  so  far  as  the  question  of  locality  was  concerned.  When  Pro- 
fessor Agassiz  died,  however,  and  his  son  and  successor  at  the  Museum  of 
Comparative  Zoology  in  Cambridge,  Mr.  Alexander  Agassiz,  undertook  to 
continue  the  enterprise  and  pursue  his  own  investigations  at  the  same 
locality,  he  met  with  difficulties. 

It  was  discovered  that,  owing  to  inaccessibility  and  other  circum- 
stances, the  expense  of  continuing  the  school  would  be  too  great  to  make 
it  profitable  in  any  sense,  and  that  the  oversight  of  so  large  a  class  in- 
volved a  greater  tax  upon  his  time  than  Mr.  Agassiz  could  afford.  The 
school  was  therefore  closed,  and  a  position  was  sought  which  should  be 
equally  rich  in  material  for  study,  but  more  convenient  for  the  erection 
of  such  a  laboratory  as  is  about  to  be  described  —  a  laboratory  which 
should  not  attempt  to  cany  out  the  widely  educational  idea  of  the  elder 
professor,  but  should  simply  be  the  best  desirable  workshop  for  Mr.  Agas- 
siz and  such  of  his  assistants  and  advanced  special  students  at  the.  Cam- 
bridge Museum  as  he  could  find  accommodation  for.  These  facts  are 
plainly  stated  in  order  to  dispel  a  current  error  that  the  present  institu- 
tion is  only  a  weak  perpetuation  of  Professor  Louis  Agassiz's  school  at 
Penikese  in  1873. 

After  very  careful  examination,  the  terminus  of  the  Neck,  at  New- 
port, Rhode  Island,  was  fixed  upon  by  Mr.  Agassiz  as  the  most  suitable 
location.  Here  a  promontory  of  solid  rock,  well  clothed  with  turf,  stands 
out  boldly  from  the  coast-line.  With  the  open  ocean  westward  and  in 
front  as  you  look  towards  the  south,  and  the  entrance  to  the  harbor, 
divided  by  Conanicut  and  other  islands  from  the  shining  breadth  of 
Narraganset  Bay,  beside  you  on  the  right,  few  points  on  our  coast  or  any 
other  give  a  more  inspiring  outlook.  In  1812  some  defensive  earthworks 
crowned  the  bluff,  giving  the  name  Castle  Hill  to  the  promontory,  the 
crest  of  which  is  now  occupied  by  Mr.  Agassiz's  summer  home.  On  the 


A  PICTURESQUE   BUILDING. 


79 


harbor  side,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  a  little  winding  cove  "  makes  in  "- 
a  mere  rift  in  the  rocks,  so  deep  that  no  unsightly  mud-banks  are  left 
exposed,  and  where  boats  can  easily  make  a  landing  at  low  tide.     Here 
stands  the  laboratory,  sheltered  from  the  ocean's  winds,  but  overlooking 
the  beautiful  harbor. 


ALEXANDER  AGASSIZ. 


"No  one  would  suspect  its  purpose  from  the  appearance  of  the  build- 
ing; all  the  prettiness  of  tasteful  sea-side  architecture — many-gabled  roof, 
outer  stairways,  external  beams  and  braces,  latticed  porticoes,  and  slate- 
brown  paint,  overgrown  with  masses  of  vinery — feigns  romance  rather 
than  the  realism  to  which  it  is  devoted.  A  few  rods  away,  nearer  the 
shore,  stands  a  windmill — not  such  an  old-fashioned,  shingle-sided  relic  as 
those  which  used  to  flap  their  massive  arms  in  the  face  of  frightened 
horses  all  around  the  ancient  town,  but  a  new  and  ingenious  contrivance 
of  iron,  which,  if  it  adds  nothing  to  the  fair  picture,  at  least  does  not 


80  ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  WATER  AND  AERATION. 

disfigure  it.  This  refinement  of  a  windmill,  moving  readily  under  the 
touch  of  a  zephyr  that  the  nerves  of  the  old  Hollandish  structures  never 
would  have  recognized,  supplies  to  the  laboratory  the  pure  water  and 
steady  currents  of  air  that  preserve  its  vitality.  The  soft  clucking  of  its 
musical  motion  is  rarely  silent,  for  day  after  day  the  south-west  summer 
breeze  comes  lazily  but  steadily  in,  as  though  Newport  lay  under  the 
track  of  a  trade-wind. 

Out  from  the  windmill,  some  twenty-five  yards  into  the  harbor  chan- 
nel, runs  a  pipe  which  is  bent  up  vertically  at  the  end,  and  capped  with  a 
pair  of  T's,  through  the  screened,  hanging  tips  of  which  the  clean  sea- 
water  is  sucked  in,  in  such  a  way  that  no  sea-weed  can  enter  and  clog  the 
pipe.  Through  this  pipe  the  windmill  will  draw  ten  gallons  a  minute,  at 
a  moderate  speed,  pumping  it  into  a  cistern  in  the  attic  of  the  laboratory 
which  holds  about  one  thousand  four  hundred  gallons.  When  this  is  full, 
the  overflow — for  the  mill  goes  on  regardless  of  the  demand  —  escapes 
into  an  open  sink  down -stairs,  so  that  the  condition  of  the  cistern  is 
always  apparent.  The  water  used  in  the  laboratory,  however,  does  not 
come  by  direct  flow  from  the  bottom  of  the  cistern,  but  is  drawn  through 
a  siphon.  This  secures  the  regular  pressure,  and  avoids  the  variation  of 
"  head "  at  different  stages  of  water  which  would  result  from  the  other 
method.  This  water  (as  I  have  already  mentioned)  is  all  clean  sea-water, 
salt  as  the  open  ocean,  and  is  incessantly  renewed. 

The  windmill  also  drives  an  air-pump,  which  forces  the  air  into  a 
drum,  whence  it  escapes  to  the  laboratory  under  an  equal  and  steady 
pressure  (secured  by  proper  valves)  of  five  pounds  to  the  square  inch. 
These  arrangements  for  a  constant  and  uniform  supply  of  water  and 
air  under  easy  control  are  the  foundation  of  the  facilities  here  afforded 
for  the  continued  and  successful  study  of  living  marine  animals. 

There  is  a  large  cellar-basement,  useful  for  dissection  of  great  fishes 
and  general  storage,  and  a  third  story  having  a  suite  of  chambers  charm- 
ing for  an  artist's  or  other  delicate  work,  for  which  a  good  light  and  the 
encouragement  of  pleasant  surroundings  are  needed;  but  the  "labora- 
tory" proper  is  a  room  perhaps  forty-five  feet  long  by  twenty-five  wide, 
entered  from  the  ground,  with  which  its  floor  is  level  on  the  uphill  side 
of  the  house. 

The  southern  side  of  this  room  is  occupied  wholly  by  glass  shelving, 
closets,  etc.  A  part  of  the  shelves  hold  the  working  library — not  many 
books,  nor  in  fine  bindings,  but  in  all  sorts  of  languages,  full  of  strange 
diagrammatic  figures  and  Latin  names,  of  anatomical  descriptions  and 
tables  of  classification — unentertaining  volumes  to  the  layman,  not  at 


INTERIOR  OF  THE   LABORATORY.  81 

all  of  the  sort  which  form  the  "summer  reading"  of  the  publishers,  yet 
costly  and  precious,  for  each  one  is  the  monument  of  months  or  years 
of  patient  labor,  and  lays  bare  a  little  corner  of  the  globe's  history  un- 
seen before.  These  plain  books  are  all  laid  on  their  sides  to  prevent 
their  warping.  Among  them  are  portfolios  full  of  original  drawings 
and  manuscript  notes  that  have  grown  out  of  the  studies  of  the  master 
and  his  students,  which  are  left  for  years  to  season  under  the  watchful 
experience  which  shall  confirm  or  condemn  their  presumed  truth  before 
the  test  of  publication  is  risked. 

The  rest  of  the  glass  shelving  on  the  south  wall  is  covered  with  glass 
dishes  of  all  kinds.  Room  is  precious,  so  the  cupboards  have  doors  of 
slate  which,  when  shut,  form  a  black-board  (every  working  and  teach- 
ing naturalist  must  of  necessity  be  a  pretty  good  draughtsman,  both  with 
pencil  and  chalk) ;  and  there  are  everywhere  hooks  and  other  devices 
for  convenience. 

The  eastern  and  western  ends  of  the  room  have  windows  so  guarded 
1>3T  shutters  as  to  exclude  the  light  but  admit  a  cool  breeze ;  but  the  north 
wall  is  full  of  long  windows,  having  only  space  between  for  five  tables, 
which  (though  there  are  two  extra  ones  in  the  corners)  limit  the  num- 
ber of  persons  who  can  work  at  one  time.  This  north  light  is  excellent, 
the  bay  reflecting  it,  while  the  grassy  plat  near  by  prevents  any  glare. 
Across  each  window  may  be  placed  a  movable  shelf,  fixed  at  any  height, 
on  which  a  glass  jar  may  be  set  between  the  observer  and  the  light,  in 
such  a  way  that  the  motions  of  any  little  creatures  in  this  improvised 
aquarium  can  be  seen  with  great  plainness. 

It  would  seem  as  though  a  building  so  well  constructed  as  this,  and 
founded  upon  the  granite  core  of  the  primitive  globe,  was  solid  enough; 
but  microscopists — and  the  men  who  work  here  are  nearly  all  microscop- 
ists — will  tell  you  that  their  instruments  are  sensitive  to  a  jar  which  the 
most  acute  of  our  nerves  would  fail  to  perceive,  and  that  the  least  tremble 
is  sufficient  to  disturb  that  precise  focus  upon  the  keeping  of  which  the 
success  of  an  observation  depends.  Independent  of  his  foundations, 
therefore,  Mr.  Agassiz  has  built  a  line  of  massive  arches,  nowhere  touched 
by  the  floors  or  walls  of  the  building.  It  is  upon  these  arches  that  the 
working  tables  and  the  little  three-cornered  microscope  stools  stand,  feel- 
ing the  shock  of  no  gale  that  may  beat  against  the  house,  nor  the  tremor 
of  any  footfall  upon  the  floor. 

The  tables  are  not  of  large  size — about  like  a  library  desk — but  are 
firmly  constructed  and  serviceable.  They  are  covered  with  English 
glazed  tiles — white,  except  two  black  rows  at  the  end,  furnishing  opposite 


82  EXPERIMENTS  AS  TO  COLORS  OF  FISHES. 

backgrounds  to  the  glass  vessel  in  which  the  often  almost  invisible  morsel 
of  animal  life  is  floating.  What  cannot  readily  be  seen  against  a  white 
surface  may  become  plainly  apparent  in  front  of  a  black  one.  On  the 
long  middle  tables  (hereafter  described)  Mr.  Agassiz  has  enlarged  upon 
this  idea  by  covering  them  with  spaces  of  variously  colored  tiles  simula- 
ting natural  sea -bottoms.  The  clear  gray  does  well  enough  for  sand; 
dark  leaden  gray  for  mud ;  a  mottled  castile-soap  pattern  in  brown  for 
pebbles;  and  dulse-green  for  sea-weed.  It  is  a  popular  error,  or,  at  any 
rate,  prevalent  thoughtlessness,  that  sea  animals  pay  no  attention  to  the 
sort  of  bottom  underneath  them  as  they  move  about.  If  this  is  true  of 
any,  it  certainly  is  not  of  a  large  number  of  kinds.  Some  are  confined  to 
districts  limited  by  one  sort  of  bottom,  because  it  provides  their  only  food  ; 
others  because  there  they  are  safer  from  harm  than  they  would  be  else- 
where; a  third  class  perhaps  from  choice,  or  for  some  reason  not  readily 
discernible.  In  any  case  it  has  been  both  suspected  and  proved  that  the 
character  of  the  bottom  has  great  influence,  particularly  in  the  matter  of 
color,  upon  the  fishes  and  others  frequenting  a  district  of  mud  or  sand, 
or  rocky  or  weed-grown  bottom  respectively.  It  was  in  order  to  experi- 
ment in  this  direction  that  Mr.  Agassiz  invented  and  provided  these  imi- 
tative surfaces,  which  should  form  an  artificial  bottom  resembling  sand, 
pebbles,  etc.,  when  the  dish  containing  a  fish  or  invertebrate  to  be  de- 
ceived should  be  set  upon  it. 

I  can  mention  here  only  one  of  the  interesting  results  of  the  experi- 
ments. The  flounder,  as  everybody  knows,  is  an  ill-looking,  dark-colored, 
flat  fish,  which  creeps  close  along  the  bottom,  and  frequents  for  the  most 
part  banks  of  mud,  from  which  it  is  almost  indistinguishable.  Occasion- 
ally the  flounder  resorts  to  sandy  districts,  in  which  case  it  is  of  a  yellow- 
ish tinge,  though  not  otherwise  different  from  its  black  neighbor  of  the 
mud.  Taking  young  flounders,  Mr.  Agassiz  experimented  upon  their 
power  of  changing  color.  Placing  them  upon  the  blackish  tiles,  they 
quickly  turned  mud-color ;  moved  thence  to  the  "  sand  "  tiles,  only  a  few 
moments  elapsed  before  their  leaden  skins  had  paled  to  dull  yellowish 
white;  transferred  to  the  mimic  "sea-weed,"  in  less  than  five  minutes  a 
greenish  hue  overspread  their  skins,  which  would  have  served  well  in 
their  native  element  to  keep  them  unobserved  against  a  mass  of  algse. 
As  the  flounders  grew  older,  the  rapidity  and  facility  lessened  with  which 
these  changes  were  effected,  and  perhaps  they  would  altogether  cease  in 
aged  individuals  who  had  never  practised  as  turncoats;  but  the  readiness 
with  which  youngsters  altered  their  complexions  to  suit  their  circum- 
stances would  give  them  high  rank  in  partisan  politics. 


AN    INGENIOUS  WATER-SUPPLY.  83 

Between  the  ends  of  the  two  tables  which,  as  I  have  said,  extend 
lengthwise  of  the  room,  as  far  as  convenience  will  allow,  stands  a  sink 
made  of  soapstone,  where  overflows  go  and  where  water  may  be  drawn 
by  the  pailful.  This  sink  is  covered  like  an  old-fashioned  well,  with  a  flat 
canopy  of  glass  resting  at  a  convenient  height  upon  four  corner  posts,  so 
that  jars  may  be  set  upon  it  and  their  contents  examined  from  under- 
neath with  the  important  help  of  transmitted  light. 

The  central  tables  each  side  of  this  are  intended  not  for  study — that 
is  to  be  done  at  the  small  desks  near  the  windows — but  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  specimens ;  and  to  this  end  there  is  suspended  over  them  an  elabo- 
rate system  of  pipes,  supplying  air  and  water  and  bearing  faucets  every 
few  inches.  This  system  consists  of  eight  sub-pipes  connecting  with  two 
branches  from  the  cistern  siphon,  which  hangs  well  above  the  operator's 
head,  but  within  easy  reach  of  the  hand.  Each  sub-pipe  may  be  closed 
or  opened  by  a  stopcock,  so  as  to  admit  either  air  or  sea-water  at  will, 
the  air  being  brought  to  them  by  a  special  connection  with  the  air-main 
from  the  windmill.  Besides  this,  a  portion  of  the  branches  can  be  cut 
off  and  used  to  supply  rain-water  also,  which  is  stored  in  a  small  cistern 
of  its  own  near  by.  Sea-water,  fresh-water,  and  air  may  therefore  be  sup- 
plied all  at  once  and  continuously,  and  the  arrangement  for  each  may  be 
changed  and  interchanged  to  suit  the  student's  convenience,  while  no 
anxiety  is  felt,  either  lest  the  supply  may  cease  or  lest  any  irregularities 
may  occur,  since  automatic  contrivances  guard  against  accident  to  the 
machinery.  Even  if  water  should  fly  loose,  or  overflow  somewhat,  no 
harm  would  be  done,  for  copper  gutters  carry  away  all  drippings,  and  the 
cement  floor,  covered  only  with  neat  oil-cloth,  defies  injury  from  wetting. 
In  case  of  a  failure  of  the  windmill,  the  cistern  could  be  filled  daily  by  a 
hand  force-pump. 

I  have  explained  that  this  particular  locality  is  highly  favorable  to  the 
study  of  marine  zoology,  because  the  jutting  headlands  on  each  side  of 
the  harbor  make  a  funnel  into  which,  twice  a  day,  the  entrapped  tide 
drives  the  pure  ocean  waters  fresh  from  the  warm  path  of  the  Gulf 
Stream,  bringing  a  harvest  of  living  things  that  elsewhere  along  the  coast 
remain  far  outside.  Mr.  Agassiz  is  therefore  able  to  get,  at  the  very  door 
of  his  laboratory,  a  large  series  of  thoroughly  pelagic  animals  which  other 
naturalists  (at  least,  everywhere  north  of  Hatteras)  must  go  far  afloat  for, 
and  would  regard  as  wholly  extra  littoral. 

One  may  see  anchored  in  the  little  cove  behind  Castle  Hill  a  small 
steam-launch  (it  can  outspeed  anything  of  its  size  at  Newport !),  a  trim 
sloop  or  two,  and  various  dories  and  punts;  these  constitute  the  fleet  with 


84  TRAWLS,  DREDGES,  AND  TOWING-NETS. 

which  materials  for  investigation  are  gathered.  Two  methods  are  prac- 
tised, according  to  the  sort  of  animals  desired  or  hoped  for.  If  mollusks, 
sea-urchins,  star-fishes,  annelids,  or  mature  non-swimming  animals  gener- 
ally, or  some  kinds  of  bottom-feeding  fishes  are  wanted,  then  the  launch 
is  sent  out  to  trawl. 

The  trawl  used  by  Mr.  Agassi z  is  a  miniature  of  the  improved  appa- 
ratus designed  by  him  and  employed  in  his  deep-sea  dredging  in  the  West 
Indies  on  board  the  Coast  Survey  steamer  Blake.  It  consists  of  a  pair  of 
IPs  set  on  edge  and  fastened  in  that  position  by  horizontal  connecting 
bars  of  iron.  Behind  this  frame  so  constructed  is  fastened  a  sack  of  chain- 
netting  or  canvas,  or  both,  and  in  front  a  sort  of  bail-handle  to  which  the 
drag-rope  is  attached.  It  is  of  no  consequence  upon  which  side  the  trawl 
falls  when  thrown  overboard,  since  the  round  ends  of  the  IPs  give  equal 
runners  on  both  sides;  and,  as  it  is  pulled  along,  the  weight,  position,  and 
blade-like  form  of  the  lower  bar.  cause  the  machine  to  hold  to  the  bottom, 
and  scrape  every  easily  movable  thing  into  the  strong  bag  which  trails, 
open-mouthed,  behind.  The  "  feel "  of  the  rope  tells  the  dredger  when  it 
is  full;  it  is  then  hauled  up  hand  over  hand  or  by  means  of  a  windlass, 
and  its  contents  are  emptied  out  and  sorted  before  the  next  load  arrives. 
Dredging  in  Newport  harbor,  or,  as  we  used  to  do  it  back  arid  forth 
through  Vineyard  Sound  (to  the  great  perturbation  of  weak  stomachs),  is 
a  very  simple  matter;  but  when  it  comes  to  dropping  the  great  deep-sea 
dredge  two  miles  or  more,  and  taking  all  day  to  the  experiment,  with  the 
help  of  a  donkey-engine,  it  becomes  an  art.  In  the  two  cases  the  appa- 
ratus differs  little,  except  as  to  size  and  strength. 

The  laboratory  I  am  describing,  however,  is  connected,  thus  far,  main- 
ly with  inquiries  into  the  embryology  and  youthful  life  of  fishes,  and 
the  embryology  of  radiates,  Crustacea,  and  worms.  Materials  for  this,  in 
the  shape  of  eggs  and  larvae,  are  almost  wholly  to  be  got  just  under  the 
surface  of  the  sea,  where  the  wandering,  playful  children  of  all  sorts  of 
sea  life — fishes,  mollusks  univalve  and  bivalve,  crabs  and  shrimps,  jelly- 
fishes,  sea-stars,  urchins,  worms,  etc.,  etc. — swarm  and  drift  in  happy  aim- 
lessness  until  their  ranks  are  thinned  by  countless  enemies,  and  the  survi- 
vors sink  to  safer  depths  or  settle  on  some  public  and  pre-empted  home- 
stead among  the  surf -showered  rocks.  When  the  glare  of  the  sun  has  left 
the  water,  and  the  tide  stands  high  off  the  Torpedo  Station,  or  is  just 
beginning  to  settle  seaward  at  Beaver  Tail,  the  professor  and  his  students 
slowly  cruise  in  search  of  such  tiny  prey.  Behind  them  is  towed  a  gauze 
net,  which  skims  the  surface  and  ingulfs  every  unlucky  midget  in  its  path, 
while  all  hands  continually  dip  up  at  random  gauze  dipperfuls  of  water 


RICHES   OF   THE   TIDAL  CURRENTS.  85 

and  carefully  rinse  their  nets  in  the  small  tubs,  on  the  chance  of  getting 
something  worth  having.  It  is  by  this  sort  of  pleasant  sea-prospecting 
that  we  have  learned  how  rich  are  the  tidal  currents  setting  into  Narra- 
ganset  Bay  in  representatives  of  all  the  crowding  pelagic  life  of  the  Gulf 
Stream  ;  and  if  Mr.  Agassiz  neglects  to  drag  his  nets  on  the  incoming  tide, 
it  is  a  small  matter,  for  .the  outgoing  rush  leaves  a  thousand  sea-born 
youngsters  captives  in  the  pocket-like  cove  just  tinder  his  windows,  where 
they  have  been  entrapped  and  may  be  scooped  up  at  leisure. 

Returning  from  such  an  excursion,  the  buckets  and  tubs  containing 
the  "  net  result"  are  brought  to  the  laboratory  and  sorted  out.  The  visitor 
then  would  find  the  long  central  tables  covered  with  glassware — jars  and 
pans  and  bowls,  white  and  clear  as  crystal,  capacious  as  if  to  hold  punch 
for  the  Chaplain  of  the  Fleet,  every  one  with  a  mouth  as  big  as  its  body, 
or  even  bigger.  Some  of  these  high,  straight-sided,  flashing  jars  will  hold 
several  gallons;  some  of  the  shallow  ones  are  like  six-quart  milk-pans,  and 
the  sizes  of  the  others  lessen  to  the  minimum  of  a  watch  crystal,  where  a 
single  egg,  or  gastraea  larva,  or  dancing  animalcule  may  be  isolated  from 
his  fellows.  This  glassware  is  all  made  to  order  for  the  laboratory  and 
for  the  Cambridge  Museum.  It  is  altogether  unequalled  for  the  purpose, 
since  it  is  capacious,  clean,  transparent,  and  not  affected  by  sea- water  as 
metal  or  wood  would  be,  while  it  is  cheaper,  lighter,  and  more  handsome 
than  porcelain. 

Having  roughly  sorted  and  cared  for  the  dredgings  that  same  night, 
the  next  morning  the  student  examines  them  more  carefully,  and  arranges 
for  preservation  the  specimens  which  he  especially  desires  to  keep  alive. 
The  method  will  depend  upon  the  age,  character,  and  known  hardihood  of 
the  object,  but  the  two  requisites  in  all  cases  are  cleanness  of  water  and 
constant  aeration.  Turning  off  the  water  from  one  of  the  pipes,  a  rubber 
tube  from  the  air-main  is  led  to  it,  and  it  becomes  an  air-pipe.  The  jar 
containing  the  living  specimen  is  placed  on  that  part  of  the  table  at  which, 
by  means  of  the  tiles  underneath,  it  can  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage ;  a 
small  rubber  tube  attached  to  a  faucet  on  one  pipe  is  made  to  supply  to  it 
a  steady  stream  of  clean  sea-water,  and  another  tube  brings  fresh  air  to 
replace  the  oxygen  exhausted  by  the  animal's  respiration  ;  the  overflow 
takes  care  of  itself,  and  there  is  no  further  trouble. 

But  this  simple  proceeding  can  be  trusted  only  in  the  case  of  large, 
mature,  tough  animals,  such  as  rarely  have  the  honor  of  reposing  in  these 
scientific  precincts.  More  gentle  treatment  is  usually  required,  and  the 
methods  now  successful  have  only  been  learned  through  long  and  costly 
experience. 


86  LABORATORY  METHODS. 

In  the  first  place,  isolation,  entire  or  in  part,  is  necessary.  This  is 
accomplished  by  subdividing  the  tubes  which  lead  from  the  iron  pipes 
overhead.  An  inch  or  two  from  the  faucet  there  will  be  slipped  in  an  in- 
verted T  of  glass  bearing  two  tubes ;  these  in  turn  may  be  similarly  sub- 
divided by  inverted  T's,  and  so  on,  the  number  of  outlets  supplied  by  the 
one  original  faucet  and  neck  being  limited  only  by  convenience.  Every  ter- 
minus of  a  tube,  whether  delivering  water  or  air,  is  closed  by  a  glass  tip, 
which  not  only  gives  exit  to  a  safely  diminished  stream,  but  does  no  harm 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  jar,  as  the  corrupting  influence  of  rubber  in  con- 
tact with  salt-water  might.  These  tips  are  bits  of  glass  tubing  cut  off  as 
required,  melted  in  a  spirit-lamp,  drawn  to  a  fine  point,  and  perforated  by 
a  hole,  which  allows  the  escape  of  only  a  thread  of  water  or  a  bubble  of 
air  so  small  as  to  cause  no  disturbance.  Each  man  makes  these  glass  tips 
for  himself,  bending  and  twisting  them  to  suit  his  needs.  The  rubber  tub- 
ing, too,  is  a  great  convenience.  It  is  of  various  sizes,  can  be  cut  into  any 
required  length,  pieced  out  by  stretching  over  a  joint  of  glass  tubing,  fit- 
ted air-tight  upon  iron  pipes,  faucets,  glass  rods,  and  the  like,  and  bent 
about  in  the  most  handy  and  time-saving  way. 

Though  the  water  comes  clear  enough,  it  will  not  do  to  allow  the  air 
supplied  by  the  windmill  to  enter  at  once  the  water  in  which  the  very 
delicate  organisms  are  being  kept  alive.  It  is  likely  to  contain  some 
moisture  gathered  on  the  way,  and  this  moisture  is  liable  to  have  been 
charged  with  iron-rust  or  some  other  mineral  ingredient.  The  air  from 
the  pipe,  therefore,  is  led  first  through  a  large  Woulfe  bottle,  such  as 
chemists  are  familiar  with,  where  it  leaves  its  deleterious  moisture  and 
goes  clean  to  its  work.  That  this  precaution  is  a  judicious  one,  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  the  Woulfe  bottles  gradually  become  clouded  within  by  a 
deposit  of  iron  and  dirt.  Sometimes  ducts  of  rubber  connect  two  or  three 
jars  to  one  or  more  of  these  Woulfe  bottles  and  to  each  other,  and  so 
there  is  a  constant  circulation  among  a  community  of  little  aquaria,  econ- 
omizing apparatus.  All  these  contrivances  together,  and  two  hundred 
and  fifty  jars  and  bowls,  can  be  taken  care  of  at  once  on  these  tables, 
though  there  are  only  a  score  or  so  of  supplying  faucets. 

Reckoned  by  their  vitality  in  captivity,  marine  animals  fall  into  three 
categories : 

First. — Those  that  are  large  and  strong  enough  to  allow  water  to  be 
introduced  in  a  steady  stream  directly  to  their  jars,  and  that  do  not  re- 
quire any  more  air  than  the  constant  current  of  water  brings;  these  are 
the  crabs,  shell-fish,  annelids,  and  common  full-grown  shore  animals,  such 
as  are  ordinarily  seen  in  aquaria. 


VITALITY  OF  MARINE   ANIMALS.  87 

Second. — Those  that  will  survive  simple  aeration  of  the  water  in 
which  they  are  placed,  the  water  itself  not  being  changed,  usually,  but 
only  added  to  to  make  up  for  evaporation.  To  this  class  belong  crabs 
and  other  small  animals  that  are  just  about  to  lay  their  eggs,  together 
with  young  of  all  sorts  in  their  swimming  or  larval  stages.  In  these 
cases,  however,  the  "injector"  is  often  made  use  of.  This  consists  of  a 
spindle-shaped  chamber  of  brass,  with  external  openings,  so  that,  as  the 
stream  of  water  passes  through,  it  sucks  into  its  current  a  quantity  of  air 
which  goes  to  the  jar  mingled  with  the  stream.  This  little  injector  is,  in 
fact,  a  miniature  Catalan  blow-pipe,  being  constructed  on  exactly  the  same 
principle  as  that  which  supplies  the  tweers  of  a  blast-furnace.  It  is  a  con- 
trivance of  great  value  in  the  laboratory. 

Third. — The  morsels  of  almost  invisible  life,  too  delicate  to  resist 
ever  so  feeble  a  current,  and  too  volatile  and  minute  not  to  escape  in  an 
overflow,  however  well  guarded.  To  the  receptacle  of  these  only  a  very 
gentle  though  unremitting  supply  of  air  can  be  given,  while  the  water 
must  frequently  be  changed  by  cautious  dipping  out  and  pouring  in 
by  hand,  a  trifle  at  a  time.  No  mother  attends  to  her  infant  with  more 
tender  and  scrupulous  care  than  the  zoologist  to  these  babies  of  the  sea. 

And  what  are  they  ?  Eggs  of  fishes,  mollusks,  crustaceans,  and  radi- 
ates;  embryos  of  similar  animals  and  of  jelly-fishes — filmy,  fragile,  nine- 
teen-twentieths  water — which  would  perish  under  the  slightest  injury,  and 
can  only  be  kept  alive  by  the  greatest  painstaking.  That  Mr.  Agassiz 
has  been  successful  beyond  all  precedent  in  preserving  these  excessively 
delicate  pelagic  forms  in  his  laboratory,  shows  how  admirable  are  all  his 
methods  and  appliances  to  reproduce  the  most  healthy  conditions  of  nat- 
ure. It  was  no  mean  triumph,  for  instance,  to  have  reared  those  young 
flounders  and  goose-fish  from  eggs  scooped  up  in  the  open  sea,  and  to 
have  kept  them  all  summer,  while  he  noted  and  sketched  the  various 
aspects  of  their  growth.  But  the  highest  surety  of  the  suitability  of 
his  arrangements  was  afforded  when  the  vapory,  translucent  siphono- 
phores,  in  which  no  one  before  had  been  able  to  maintain  vitality  for 
more  than  two  or  three  hours,  lived  contentedly  in  their  glass  prison  last 
summer  during  fifteen  days.  One  highly  favorable  circumstance,  no 
doubt,  is  that  the  temperature  of  the  water  in  the  Newport  laboratory 
is  cooler  than  that  of  the  open  sea.  Heated  by  the  ever-present  Gulf 
Stream,  the  ocean  in  summer  rises  to  a  warmth  of  seventy-six  or  seventy- 
seven  degrees  Fahrenheit ;  by  the  time  it  has  passed  through  the  pipes 
and  the  shaded  cistern  this  water  has  been  considerably  cooled  down,  and 
remains  at  a  lower  temperature  than  that  of  the  native  element  from 


88  INVESTIGATIONS  IN  EMBHYOLOGY. 

which  the  subjects  for  study  are  brought.  This  is  greatly  to  their  ad- 
vantage (the  hatching  of  fish-eggs  may  be  checked,  yet  without  loss  of 
vitality,  and  held  back  indefinitely,  by  steady  cold),  and  it  was  because 
of  the  opposite  condition  that  sea-side  students  at  Nahant  and  Salem 
and  Gloucester  have  always  been  less  successful.  English  laboratories 
have  an  equal  difficulty,  overcome  only  by  the  expensive  use  of  ice. 

But  to  go  into  all  the  details  of  laboratory  expedients  employed  here 
is  beyond  space,  and  perhaps  would  interest  very  few.  Everything  is  in- 
tended for  work  and  study,  not  for  show ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of 
an  "aquarium."  If  it  happens  that  the  apparatus  or  the  zoological  speci- 
mens are  pretty,  that  is  a  happy  chance,  not  the  first  intention.  No  liv- 
ing object  is  kept  longer  than  there  is  use  for  it :  mere  curiosity  must 
make  way  for  original  investigation  into  something  else  more  obscure. 

The  studies  at  the  laboratory  have  continued  through  half  a  dozen 
summers,  and  have  been  conducted  by  Mr.  Agassiz,  the  late  Count  L.  F. 
de  Pourtales,  Professor  Walter  Faxon,  Dr.  W.  K.  Brooks,  and  Mr.  T.  W. 
Fewkes,  with  a  few  others  at  intervals. 

Mr.  Agassiz's  work  here  has  been  mainly  on  the  embryology  of  fishes, 
radiates,  Crustacea,  annelids,  and  pelagic  tunicates.  Several  contributions 
to  the  National  Academy  of  Science  and  to  the  Proceedings  of  the  Amer- 
ican Academy  of  Arts  and-  Sciences  (Boston)  have  grown  out  of  them, 
chiefly  upon  the  young  stages  of  flounders,  goose-fish,  and  various  other 
genera;  and  embryological  observations  on  the  ctenophoric  jelly-fishes,  on 
the  gar-pike  (Lepidosteus),  and  on  Salanoglossus.  Mr.  Agassiz  was  also 
employed  for  a  long  time  in  working  up  the  sea-urchins  brought  home 
by  the  Challenger  deep-sea  expedition,  the  results  of  which  have  been 
embodied  in  the  special  scientific  reports  of  that  famous  cruise. 

Count  Pourtales  spent  his  energies  chiefly  on  his  favorite  corals,  For- 
aminifera  and  their  kin,  publishing  his  results  in  the  memoirs  of  the  Mu- 
seum of  Comparative  Zoology,  where  he  was  keeper.  Mr.  Faxon,  who  is 
assistant  professor  of  zoology  at  Harvard,  made  a  specialty  of  Crustacea, 
and  wrote  several  papers  on  their  embryology. 

Dr.  Brooks,  who  is  now  assistant  professor  of  biology  at  Johns  Hop- 
kins University,  and  who  carries  on  a  marine  laboratory  of  his  own  at 
Beaufort,  North  Carolina,  busied  himself  with  the  embryology  of  mol- 
lusks,  publishing  one  paper.  Dr.  Fewkes,  now  Mr.  Agassiz's  assistant 
in  the  Zoological  Museum  at  Cambridge,  did  the  same  thing  with  jelly- 
fishes.  Much  of  the  work  of  these  and  other  students  (among  them  some 
ladies)  remains  unpublished  in  note-books  and  manuscript  (for  "  rushing 
into  print "  is  frowned  upon  by  this  cautious  coterie),  so  that  future  re- 


STUDYING  STAGES  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 


89 


suits  may  be  expected,  the  chief  preparation  for  which  has  already  been 
done.  As  to  the  further  progress  of  the  laboratory,  Mr.  Agassiz  says  the 
chief  field  will  naturally  be  the  study  of  the  youth  of  marine  animals — 
not  simply  of  their  embryology,  but  of  the  successive  phases  presented  in 
the  development  of  their  infant  growth,  and  the  relations  these  bear  to 
adult  forms  and  to  general  questions  of  biology  and  classification. 


MATERIALS  FOR  LABORATORY  STUDY. 


IX. 

RATTLESNAKES  IN  FACT  AND  FANCY. 

IF  it  were  not  for  the  traditionally  repulsive  idea  connected  with  ser- 
pents, the  rattlesnake  should  take  the  place   of   the  bald  eagle  as 
our  national  emblem.      This   is   not   the   first  time   the   idea   has  been 
suggested,  however,  since  more  than  one  of  the  colonial  flags  bore  his 
image. 

Zj 

He  is  the  most  thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  larger  animals  of  the 
New  World,  and  one  whose  behavior  both  in  war  and  peace  is  "  with- 
out fear  and  without  reproach."  If  any  one  objects  that  he  is  lazy,  I 
reply  that  he  does  all  that  he  is  called  upon  to  do  with  proper  diligence, 
and  that  it  is  better  to  be  represented  by  his  negative  traits  in  this  re- 
spect than  by  the  piratical  habits  of  the  eagle,  who  subsists  chiefly  through 
plunder.  I  never  yet  have  seen  a  man  who  did  not  hold  the  rattlesnake 
in  most  thorough  respect. 

The  rattlesnakes  belong  to  the  family  Orotalidce^  and  are  confined  to 
the  western  hemisphere.  Four  genera,  containing  seventeen  species,  are 
designated  in  the  United  States,  of  which  the  most  strongly  marked 
genus  is  Crotalus,  of  Linne.  (Crotalia  were  jingling  ear-rings  of  pearls, 
and  the  crotalum  a  Castanet  used  as  an  accompaniment  by  dancing  girls.) 
In  the  present  chapter  the  eastern  Crotalus  horridus  (formerly  C.  duris- 
8us)  is  usually  meant. 

Young  rattlers  are  born  in  broods  of  eight  or  a  dozen,  early  in  sum- 
mer, and  remain  together  until  they  have  well  got  their  growth.  Dur- 
ing this  jnvenescence  they  seem  as  viciously  inclined,  and  as  artful  in 
rattling,  coiling,  and  striking  as  they  ever  afterwards  become,  exhibiting 
these  characteristic  traits  even  when  just  escaped  from  the  egg,  and  with 
the  yolk-sac  still  hanging  to  .the  abdomen. 

In  dull,  wet  weather,  all  varieties  of  this  serpent  lie  quiet  and  lethar- 
gic, and  are  then  most  to  be  feared  ;  but  when  the  sun  shines,  the 
chilly  rattlesnake  climbs  upon  the  warm  rocks  or  stretches  himself  in  a 


A  SHOSHONEE   RATTLESNAKE  MYTH.  91 

dusty  road;  moccasin*  and  massasaugaf  creep  from  their  "tangled  fens" 
upon  hard  banks  or  low-drooping  limbs,  along  whose  upper  surface  they 
balance  their  rugged  folds ;  while  the  copperhead  crowns  the  bowlder  at 
the  edge  of  the  clearing  with  a  brazen  coil. 

There  is  a  popular  belief  that  the  snake  never  eats  or  drinks  during 
the  hot  weather,  but  that  this  is  wrong  has  been  shown  by  many  speci- 
mens in  confinement;  manifestly  it  must  be,  since  only  in  summer  can 
it  prepare  itself  for  the  long  fast  of  winter  hibernation ;  while  the 
young  must  eat  to  nourish  their  growth.  Dr.  R.  E.  Kunze,  of  New 
York,  who  kept  a  large  rattlesnake  in  his  office,  and  wrote  an  instruc- 
tive history  of  it  in  Science  News  (1879),  found  it  ate  willingly  about 
twice  a  week,  killing  the  living  mice  put  into  its  cage  and  wanting  two 
mice  for  a  meal,  with  perhaps  an  hour  between  them.  Other  men 
have  had  difficulty  in  inducing  their  captives  to  eat  at  all ;  they  have 
been  known  to  live  a  year  and  a  half  without  a  mouthful.  They  must 
have  water  to  drink,  however — a  want  they  seern  to  feel  keenly  in  a  state 
of  nature,  often  invading  door-yards  and  even  houses  in  search  of  it  when 
the  woods  are  dry. 

The  most  noteworthy  incident,  I  fancy,  in  the  career  of  little  rattle- 
snakes (as  well  as  of  other  ophidian  youngsters),  is  their  occasional  hasty 
retreat  into  the  stomach  of  the  mother  as  a  temporary  refuge — a  fact 
which  I  must  ask  you  to  accept  as  proved,  since  I  have  not  space  to  pre- 
sent the  abundant  evidence  substantiating  this  assertion,  and  which  seems 
to  me  thoroughly  conclusive. 

There  is  a  queer  Shoshonee  myth  which  some  have  thought  was  in- 
spired by  this  snake-swallowing,  but  I  cannot  see  that  it  ever  had  any- 
thing more  to  do  with  it  than  with  the  well-known  fact  of  sloughing 
the  skin,  nor  as  much  ;  this  is  the  myth  accounting  for  the  origin  of 
the  echo,  and  it  is  as  follows  : 

lowi,  the  Turtle  Dove,  was  gathering  seeds,  and  laid  her  babe  down 
while  it  slept.  Wandering  away  at  her  work,  a  witch  came,  stole  the 
boy,  carried  him  to  her  mountain  home,  stretched  him  into  a  man,  and 

*  Of  this  word  there  are  a  dozen  spellings  :  it  is  the  Eastern-Indian  word  for  shoe, 
and  is  said  by  Schele  De  Vere  ("  Americanisms,"  p.  35)  to  have  been  given  to  the  snake 
because  its  markings  are  "like  the  black  marks  of  wear  and  tear  on  the  buff  leather." 

t  Mr.  J.  Hammond  Trumbull,  of  Hartford,  authority  in  these  matters,  writes  me  that 
the  spelling  I  have  adopted  is  the  one  chosen  by  him  for  the  snake,  though  he  uses  mis- 
sissauga  or  messissauga  for  the  Indian  tribe  from  which  the  snake  takes  its  name.  This 
tribe  (Chippeways  of  Canada)  is  named  from  a  locality — "  the  great  outlet"  of  the  lake. 
Peter  Jones  ("History  of  the  Ojibway  Indians,"  p.  164)  says  messisaga  (pronounced  by 
the  Ojibway  Indians  ma-sa-sau-gee)  means  "  the  eagle  clan." 


92  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  VARIOUS  SPECIES. 

married  him;  but,  like  Paul  Bultitude  in  " Vice-Versa,"  though  he  had 
the  stature  of  a  man  he  had  the  heart  of  a  babe.  The  distracted  16 wi 
and  her  brother  Kwina,  the  Eagle,  searched  day  after  day  for  the  tsoavwits 
and  her  victim,  and  finally  got  the  babe  back,  retransformed  and  as  lovely 
as  before.  The  angry  witch,  however,  was  bent  upon  recovering  her 
husband ;  she  said  to  herself,  "Well  I  know  Kwrina  the  brother  of 
lowi,  a  great  warrior  and  a  terrible  man.  I  will  go  to  Togoa,  the  Rat- 
tlesnake, my  grandfather,  who  will  protect  me  and  kill  my  enemies." 

She  found  him  asleep  on  a  rock,  and  he  resented  both  her  interrup- 
tion and  her  request  for  aid.  While  they  were  parleying  they  heard 
Kwina  coming,  and  Togoa  said,  "Hide  !  hide !"  But  she  knew  not  where 
to  hide  until  the  grandfather  opened  his  mouth  and  bid  the  tsoavwits 
creep  into  his  stomach.  This  made  Togoa  very  sick,  however,  and  he 
begged  her  to  come  out;  but  she  refused, for  she  was  in  great  fear.  Then 
his  retchings  became  so  great  that  he  could  endure  them  no  longer,  but 
crawled  out  of  his  own  skin.  The  witch,  imprisoned  there,  rolled  about 
and  hid  in  the  rocks.  WThen  Kwina  came  near,  he  shouted,  "Where 
are  you,  old  tsoavwits f  Where  are  you,  old  tsoavwits?"  only  to  hear 
his  words  repeated  by  her  in  mockery.  Ever  since  then  witches  have 
lived  in  snake-skins  among  the  rocks,  and  it  is  their  mocking  voices  pass- 
ers-by hear  and  call  echoes. 

The  young  rattlers  grow  with  rapidity,  and  attain  pretty  near  their 
adult  size  by  the  end  of  the  year.  This,  in  the  horridus,  rarely,  if  ever, 
exceeds  a  length  of  five  feet ;  nor  are  the  other  species  larger,  but  rather 
the  contrary,  except  the  southern  one  (C.  admanteus),  examples  of  which, 
eight  feet  long,  have  been  seen  ;  while  the  miliaria  and  Kirtlandi  are 
less  than  three  feet.  All  are  thick  in  proportion  to  their  length,  with  a 
small  neck  and  the  wide  triangular  head,  like  the  barbed  point  of  an 
arrow,  that  gives  as  characteristic  an  appearance  as  does  its  inflated  hood 
to  the  cobra,  and  one  equally  frightful  to  human  eyes.  The  amount, 
pattern,  and  intensity  of  the  coloring  of  the  hide,  made  up  of  hues  of  livid 
gray,  black  and  blue  black,  chestnut,  copper  red  and  sulphur  yellow,  for 
the  most  part,  vary  widely  in  different  species  and  under  different  con- 
ditions ;  thus,  in  dry  and  open  districts,  like  the  great  plains,  the  colors 
fade  into  an  inconspicuous  sameness,  harmonizing  closely  with  the  dusty 
ground  and  stunted  herbage. 

In  favorable  localities  rattlesnakes  occur  in  amazing  plenty,  and  the 
stories,  to  be  heard  in  every  State*,  of  "  dens"  where  they  writhe  in  count- 
less numbers  and  dreadful  intimacy,  have  some  foundation.  De  Kay 
cites  an  instance  where  two  men,  in  Warren  County,  New  York,  about 


SOCIAL  HABITS   OF   THE   CROTALID^. 


93 


A  TYPICAL  RATTLESNAKE. 


1840,  slaughtered  one  thousand  one  hundred  rattlesnakes  in  three  days  on 
the  eastern  side  of  Tongue  Mountain.  In  1877  a  farmer  killed  seventy-six 
massasaugas  in  a  cranberry  marsh  of  Crawford  County,  Ohio,  where  are 
still  harbored  many  serpents  disappearing  elsewhere.  Some  swamps  and 
canebrakes  in  the  far  South  swarm  with  the  dreaded  cotton  mouth,  and 
local  species  occur  in  thousands  on  parts  of  the  plains  and  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, particularly  in  the  tufa  craters  of  warm  springs,  in  Utah.  But  per- 
haps the  nearest  approach  to  the  "  den  "  of  the  sensational  picture  is  an 


94:  ANNUAL  SLOUGHING   OF  THE  SKIN.    . 

island  in  Pyramid  Lake,  Nevada,  where,  during  the  warm  months,  "  it  is 
absolutely  dangerous  to  walk  about  those  parts  of  the  island  where  they 
are  colonized ;"  or,  at  any  rate,  it  was  so  a  few  years  ago,  according  to  a 
government  report. 

This  animal  is  easily  killed  or  disabled,  however,  and  has  in  man  an 
implacable  enemy,  not  only  directly  but  in  many  indirect  ways ;  yet  there 
are  few  localities  favorable  to  him  where  he  has  been  exterminated.  You 
can  find  rattlesnakes  in  plenty,  for  example,  within  five  miles  of  the  cen- 
tre of  New  Haven.  It  is  doubtful  if  any  of  the  several  species  will  ever 
suffer  extinction. 

Scales  being  undistensible,  and  never  falling  out  to  be  replaced,  like 
hair  and  feathers  (with  which  they  have  no  homology),  serpents  get  room 
for  growth  and  renew  their  coats  by  periodically  sloughing  off  the  entire 
skin,  underneath  which  a  new  external  skin  has  formed  and  separated 
itself  from  the  now  faded  and  husky  cuticle.  The  process  occurs  during 
August  in  the  adult,  two  or  three  changes  happening  in  a  single  sum- 
mer with  youngsters,  who  outgrow  their  vestments  very  speedily.  It  is 
a  popular  idea  that  this  midsummer  sloughing  occupies  a  considerable 
period,  during  which  the  serpents  are  harmless  because  blind.  It  is  quite 
supposable  that  this  might  be  so,  since  the  outer  layer  of  the  cornea  of 
the  eye  peels  off  with  the  slough,  and  during  the  few  preceding  days  the 
eye  has  a  dim  and  filmy  appearance.  But  captive  snakes,  given  active 
mice  at  this  time,  attacked  them  without  hesitation  or  missing.  After 

j  O 

the  moult  the  eye  gleams  bright  and  cold  like  a  jewel,  but  with  a  sul- 
len, ferocious,  and  relentless  expression,  for  it  is  overhung  by  the  bony 
pent-house  of  the  broad,  strong,  superorbital  bones  that  give  a  fulcrum 
for  the  powerful  muscles  of  the  jaws.  This  cruel  eye  and  its  fixed 
stare  introduces  the  once  vexing  question  of  fascination ;  but  before 
discussing  it,  some  account  of  the  food  and  feeding  habits  of  our  subject 
will  be  well. 

The  disposition  of  the  whole  family  is  sluggish,  and  opposed  to  any 
active  movement,  even  in  taking  prey,  beyond  the  one  lightning-swift 
blow  that  smites  it  down — so  startling  a  contrast  to  the  ordinary  lethargy  ! 
The  moccasin,  to  be  sure,  is  somewhat  an  exception,  since  he  is  a  good 
swimmer  and  chases  in  their  element  frogs,  smaller  water-snakes,  tadpoles, 
and  the  less  agile  fishes,  like  the  cat-fish. 

The  most  rapid  exertions  of  rattlesnakes  are  aroused  in  fleeing  from 
danger ;  yet,  when  doing  their  best  on  open  ground,  their  pace  can  easily 
be  equalled  by  a  child,  without  running,  as  I  have  seen  on  the  plains,  so 
that  a  blacksnake  or  a  Eutania  could  not  only  overtake,  but  circle  round 


FORAGING  HABITS   OF   RATTLESNAKES. 


95 


HEAD   OF   THE   COPPERHEAD — UPPER  AND 
UNDER  VIEWS. 


and  round  them.  Their  plan  in  food-getting,  then,  is  not  to  pursue  their 
prey,  but  to  lie  in  wait  for  it  and  strike  before  their  presence  is  suspected. 
Protected  by  his  colors,  that  assimilate  him  to  the  haunts  he  most  fre- 
quents, whether  woods  and  rocks,  as  in  the  Eastern  crotali,  or  the  bare 
uplands  chosen  by  the  far  West- 
ern species ;  the  shaded  morasses 
threaded  by  the  dark-skinned  mas- 
sasauga ;  the  lush  meadows  where 
the  copperhead  lurks ;  the  stream- 
bank  or  rice-ridge  whence  the  cot- 
tonmouth  plunges  into  the  water; 
or  the  yellow  weeds  under  whose 
mottled  shadows  the  little  ground- 
rattler  becomes  invisible  —  hidden 
and  motionless  for  hours  together 
in  one  or  another  of  these  resorts, 
the  crotalus  coils  in  patient  vigil- 
ance. "  Though  aware  of  the  pas- 
senger's presence,  he  either  lies  quiet  or  glides  away  to  a  more  retired 
spot."  His  course  is  that  of  the  darkey  who  was  urged  to  follow  one 
into  a  thicket  and  kill  it:  "Massa,  I  nebber  bodders  rmffiir  wot  don' 
bodder  me ;  I  makes  dat  a  rule !"  Here  again,  nevertheless,  an  excep- 
tion must  be  noted  for  the  copperhead,  and  more  especially  for  the  moc- 
casin—  vicious  reptiles,  asking  little  provocation  before  inflicting  their 

deadly  wound.  Hoi- 
brook  says  the  mocca- 
sin "attacks  everything 
that  comes  within  its 
reach,  erecting  its  head 
and  opening  its  mouth 
for  some  seconds  before 

it  bites."  All  other  snakes  put  in  a  cage  with  it  show  the  keenest 
terror.  No  species  of  crotalus,  however,  will  follow  the  object  of  its 
rage  as  do  some  of  the  non-venomous  serpents;  and,  as  a  rule,  the  eastern 
rattlesnake  would  rather  run  than  fight,  unless  hard  pressed. 

Such  are  the  facts  respecting  the  food -getting  of  the  rattlesnakes, 
while  those  of  other  serpents  would  furnish  an  equally  prosaic  explana- 
tion;  yet  the  notion  that  the  small,  bead -like  eye,  and  tongue  darting 
forked  flame  from  black  lips,  exerted  a  charm  or  fascination  upon  smaller 
animals,  luring  them  within  reach  of  the  fatal  stroke,  is  as  old  as  the  fa- 


HEAD   OP   THE   COPPERHEAD— SIDE   AND   FACE   VIEWS. 


96  THE  OLD   STORY  OF   "FASCINATION." 

bled  basilisk — older,  indeed,  for  to  it,  no  doubt  (as  I  have  mentioned  in  a 
previous  chapter),  the  very  image  of  the  basilisk  owes  its  origin.  Travel- 
ling westward,  it  came  to  America  with  the  earliest  book-makers,  and  was 
at  once  attached  to  our  subject  and  to  the  blacksnake.  "  Birds  have  been 
seen  to  drop  into  its  Mouth,"  wrote  Pennant;  "  Squirrels  descend  from 
their  trees  and  Leverets  run  into  its  jaws.  Terror  and  amazement  seem 
to  lay  hold  on  these  little  animals,"  etc.,  etc.  "All  agree,"  says  old  Cates- 
by,  of  South  Carolina,  who  confesses  he  never  witnessed  the  phenomenon 
of  fascination  for  himself — "  all  agree  in  the  manner  of  the  Process,  which 
is  that  the  Animals,  particularly  Birds  and  Squirrels,  no  sooner  spy  the 
Snake  than  they  skip  from  Spray  to  Spray,  hovering  and  approaching 
gradually  nearer  the  Enemy,  regardless  of  any  other  Danger,  but  with  dis- 
tracted Gestures  and  Outcries  descend,  tho'  from  the  top  of  the  loftiest 
Trees,  to  the  Mouth  of  the  Snake,  who  openeth  his  Jaws,  takes  them  in, 
and  instantly  swallows  them." 

Nowadays  no  well  informed  person  accepts  this  tale  as  containing 
more  than  the  merest  grain  of  fact.  It  is  true  that  the  rattlesnake  does 
lie  for  hours  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  or  in  other  convenient  situations,  silent 
and  watchful.  If  he  is  seen  there  by  any  of  the  small  denizens  of  the 
woodland  it  is  doubtful  if  he  is  recognized  at  once  as  an  enemy.  I  have 
never  been  a  witness,  nor  do  I  recall  a  record  of  a  commotion  in  the 
woods  arising  from  his  presence  such  as  follows  the  discovery  of  a  hawk 
or  owl.  When  Dr.  Kunze  excited  his  captive  snake  into  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  rattling  and  alertness,  then  brought  his  pet  squirrel  close  to  the  glass 
front,  neither  of  the  animals  paid  the  least  attention,  the  squirrel  showing 
no  concern  whatever  at  the  proximity  and  noise  of  the  crotalus.  This  is 
by  no  means  an  isolated  instance  of  its  kind. 

In  the  case  of  tree-climbing,  bush-prowling  snakes,  which  are  arrant 
nest  -  robbers,  the  discovery  by  birds  of  their  young  in  the  marauder's 
grasp  would  lead  to  frantic  efforts  to  drive  the  intruder  away  and  secure 
the  release  of  the  fledgling.  In  attempting  this  with  the  rattlesnake  they 
would  flutter  about  his  head,  and  probably  get  struck  down  as  the  reward 
of  their  noble  exposure.  This  situation  accounts  for  many  supposed  in- 
stances of  "fascination." 

Cases  of  another  class  have  often  been  attributed  to  an  "amazement 
and  terror"  at  being  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with  a  strong  and  re- 
lentless enemy,  that  amounts  to  paralysis  and  leads  to  such  behavior  as 
Catesby  has  outlined.  But  from  all  that  we  can  learn  of  the  reptile  in 
captivity,  and  from  negative  evidence  out-of-doors,  no  such  recognition 
of  the  snake  as  a  foe  occurs.  This  fact,  by  taking  away  any  cause  of 


A  GEKM   OF  TKUTH   IN   "FASCINATION."  97 

excessive  fright,  destroys  the  argument.  Nevertheless  it  may  sometimes 
happen,  and,  if  it  does,  prostration  of  nerve  would  not  be  surprising.  Men 
have  fainted  from  astonishment  and  fear.  I  have  seen  deers  and  ante- 
lopes, suddenly  disturbed,  stand  stupidly  staring  or  jumping  up  and  down, 
their  wits  gone  in  a  panic.  Hares,  startled  from  their  forms,  sometimes 
run  right  towards  the  gun  instead  of  away  from  it,  or  they  have  been 
known  to  drop  dead  before  a  shot  was  fired.  The  impotence  in  mind  as 
well  as  body  of  a  mouse  under  the  paw  of  a  cat ;  of  the  hog-nosed  snake 
when  you  have  got  it  at  sudden  disadvantage;  of  the  opossum,  and  many 
other  animals,  when  they  are  involuntarily  "feigning  death,"  are  all  ex- 
amples of  this  physical  helplessness  resulting  from  excessive  fright  on- 
some  natures.  I  am  willing  to  admit  that  serpents  may  owe  an  occasional 
meal  to  the  paralysis  caused  by  their  sudden  presence  before  the  eyes  of  a 
timid  bird  or  squirrel;  but  I  am  confident  that  no  one  of  these  small  and 
gentle  creatures,  if  allowed  to  recover  from  its  impulsive  fright,  or  grad- 
ually introduced  to  the  snake,  would  ever  fall  a  victim  to  his  fascination, 
"charm  he  never  so  wisely." 

The  inquisitiveness  so  characteristic  of  wild  animals  might  lead  them 
now  and  then  into  difficulty  with  serpents,  as  it  does  with  other  foes  to 
their  peace  of  mind  and  body.  Lastly,  if  any  such  falling  into  the  jaws  of 
the  rattlesnake  was  ever  observed,  as  has  been  alleged,  without  imaginary 
additions,  did  it  not  follow  rather  than  precede  the  stroke,  and  occur  un- 
der the  influence  of  the  slow-acting  poison,  which  left  the  victim  power  to 
flutter  for  a  brief  space  before  falling  in  the  stupor  of  approaching  death  ? 
The  struggles  of  a  poisoned  bird,  with  the  snake  lying  waiting  under- 
neath, would  make  such  a  picture  as  Catesby  drew ;  and  it  is  a  fact  that 
the  bite  is  not  always  instantly  fatal.' 

It  has  been  thought  that  the  purpose  of  the  rattle — an  organ  which 
it  has  greatly  puzzled  naturalists  to  find  the  true  utility  of — might  be 
to  stimulate  the  curiosity  of  small  animals,  and  so  attract  them  to  de- 
struction. 

The  "rattle"  consists  of  a  varying  number  of  hollow,  flattened,  and 
somewhat  rounded  segments  at  the  end  of  the  tail,  terminating  in  a  more 
globular  one  called  the  "  button."  These  are  hinged  loosely  together,  so 
as  to  have  considerable  play,  arid  the  number  of  pieces,  as  well  as  their 
shape,  varies  greatly  in  different  snakes  and  at  different  ages — while  the 
copperhead  and  massasauga  have  none  at  all,  but  only  a  horny  tip  to  the 
tail.  There  are  records  of  forty-four,  thirty-two,  and  twenty-one  rattles, 
but  ten  to  fourteen  is  the  ordinary  number  in  full-grown  crotali  of  the 


98          MECHANISM  AND  PURPOSE  OF  THE  RATTLE. 

larger-sized  species.  They  show  no  accurate  index  of  age,*  as  was  for- 
merly supposed,  but  may  be  lost  and  replaced  irregularly,  the  repair  of 
such  an  accident  proceeding  rapidly. 

The  crepitating  sound  of  the  rattles  is  a  mechanical  result  of  their  jar- 
ring, and  may  be  produced  by  shaking  them  in  your  hand,  or  accidentally 
by  the  animal  in  moving  along  uneven  ground.  This,  however,  is  hardly 
audible,  and  the  sound  becomes  so  only  by  increased  agitation  of  the  tail, 
which  can  be  made  to  vibrate  with  singular  swiftness.  As  a  continuous 
and  sustained  action,  this  has  no  parallel  anywhere  that  I  know  of  in  the 
higher  animals,  and  is  only  approached  by  the  whirring  speed  of  a  hum- 
mingbird's wings,  making  mist  of  their  invisible  motion  while  poising 
before  a  flower.  Similarly  the  motion  of  the  rattle  in  an  excited  snake 
cannot  be  followed  by  the  eye,  its  shape  disappearing  in  a  fan  of  light. 
The  enormous  muscular  and  nervous  force  involved  is  shown,  also,  in  the 
fact  that  this  inconceivably  rapid  movement  of  the  tail  can  be  sustained 
for  several  hours  without  an  instant's  rest,  as  I  have  repeatedly  witnessed 
in  various  species. 

What  is  the  purpose  of  this  vibration  of  the  tail  and  the  loud  rattling  ? 
Does  it  serve  any  use  to  the  creature?  If  so,  what? 

Naturalists  are  not  agreed  upon  the  proper  answer  to  these  questions, 
but  certain  facts  seem  made  out,  one  of  which,  not  to  be  forgotten,  is 
that  many  other  serpents  outside  the  Crotalidm  set  their  tails  into  swift 
vibration  when  teased  or  excited.  Another  point  is  the  close  resemblance 
between  the  sound  of  the  snake's  rattling  and  the  crepitation  of  the  wings 
of  certain  cicadae  and  locusts.  The  view  has  been  advanced  that  the  rat- 
tling of  the  serpent  was  an  imitative  sound,  operating  to  attract  within 
reach  of  his  fangs  such  animals — especially  birds — as  feed  upon  these 

*  An  odd  note  iii  Thomas  Morton's  "  New  English  Canaan,"  1632,  is  worth  quoting  : 
"  There  is  one  creeping  beast  or  creeple  (as  the  name  is  in  Devonshire)  that  hath  a  rattle 
at  his  tayle,  that  doth  discover  his  age."  That  progress  towards  a  knowledge  of  truth  was 
slow,  is  shown  by  the  following  quotation  from  the  generally  very  intelligent  book  writ- 
ten by  Thomas  Campanius  (of  Stockholm),  printed  in  1702,  concerning  "New  Sweden," 
or  what  is  now  southern  New  Jersey.  He  says  :  "  There  is  here  also  a  large  and  horri- 
ble serpent  which  is  called  a  rattlesnake.  It  has  a  head  like  that  of  a  dog,  and  can  bite 
off  a  man's  leg  as  clear  as  if  it  had  been  hewn  down  with  an  axe.  There  are  horny  joints 
in  their  tails,  which  make  a  noise  like  children's  rattles,  and  when  they  see  a  man,  they 
wind  themselves  in  a  circle  and  shake  their  heads,  which  can  be  heard  at  the  distance  of 
a  hundred  yards,  so  that  one  may  put  himself  on  his  guard.  These  snakes  are  three 
yards  long,  and  thick  as  the  thickest  part  of  a  man's  leg  ;  they  are  as  many  years  old  as 
they  have  rattles  in  their  tails  ;  their  color  is  brown,  black,  and  yellow.  Their  skins  are 
much  sought  after  by  pregnant  women  ;  they  tie  them  round  their  bodies,  and  are  quick- 
ly and  easily  delivered."  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  better  example  of  exaggeration. 


A   MOCK  ARGUMENT.  99 

insects.*  This  imitative  apparatus,  beginning  in  a  tendency  to  develop 
buttons  or  rattles  on  the  tail  (originating,  as  many  herpetologists  think,  in 
an  incomplete  shedding  of  the  skin  at  that  part),  and  in  the  inherent  dis- 
position to  wag  the  tail  (which  is  a  channel  for  the  expression,  of  surplus 
energy  in  all  animals),  was  accounted  for  through  a  process  of  develop- 
ment by  natural  selection.  This  seems  to  me,  as  I  read  .it,  remarkably 
unlikely.  It  asserts  prodigious  preparation  for  very  small  results,  since 
the  insects  simulated  are  never  particularly  plentiful  where  the  majority 
of  rattlesnakes  occur,  taking  the  whole  country  across;  are  noisy  only  a 
quarter  of  the  year;  and  the  birds  to  be  deceived  form  only  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  reptile's  fare. 

There  grows  in  some  parts  of  the  Southern  States  a  kind  of  grass 
which  bears  seed-panicles  that  are  so  jointed  as  not  only  to  resemble  some- 
what the  caudal  appendage  of  the  crotalns,  but  to  rustle  with  a  similar 
sound  when  shaken  by  the  wind.  Its  popular  name  is  "rattlesnake 
grass."  Why  not  argue  that,  through  natural  selection,  the  serpent  has 
acquired  a  tail  which,  when  held  erect  (as  this  serpent's  tail  so  often  is), 
shall  so  resemble  the  grass-heads  among  which  the  reptile  frequently  lies 
in  ambush  that  its  prey  may  see  no  difference,  and  so  may  come  unwarned 
within  reach  of  the  fangs?  Or,  if  it  is  assuming  too  much  to  take  for 
granted  that  the  grass  form  is  older  than  the  snake  form,  so  that  the  latter 
must  have  changed  to  suit  the  former,  then  why  cannot  we  argue  plausi- 
bly that  the  plant  gradually  developed  towards  its  present  form  because 
those  ancestral  plants  which  more  and  more  nearly  approached  this  appear- 
ance were  more  and  more  avoided  by  the  crushing  feet  and  nibbling  teeth 
of  animals  which  feared  the  rattlesnake,  and  hence  avoided  an}Tthing  that 
looked  or  sounded  suspiciously  like  it  ? 

Of  course  I  am  riot  advancing  a  serious  argument  in  bringing  this  for- 
ward, but  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  quite  as  good  and  logical  as  the  cicada- 
story  or  some  other  theories  which  I  have  heard  of.  That  natural  selec- 
tion has  had  something  or  everything  to  do  with  the  rattle  of  the  crotalus, 
I  cannot  but  believe;  but  I  fear  we  do  not  yet  perceive  in  what  manner. 

Although,  as  I  say,  I  cannot  admit  that  the  insect  mimicry  is  worth 
much  consideration,  I  can  see  how  the  noise  made  by  the  tail  might  act 
as  a  deadly  lure  to  birds  and  small  mammals  by  working  upon  their  curi- 
osity— a  weakness  particularly  noticeable  in  squirrels.  The  interesting 

*  The  summary  of  this  discussion  may  be  found  in  The  American  Naturalist,  vi.,  32, 
260,  and  vii.,  85.  The  rattles  also  form  the  theme  of  articles  in  Harper's  Magazine,  x., 
470;  in  Chambers 's  Journal,  xlix.,  641  (copied  into  the  Eclectic  and  Every  Saturday}  ;  in 
TJie  Lakeside,  v. ,  252  ;  and  in  the  Southern  Literary  Miscellany,  xvi. ,  27. 


100  INEXPERIENCE  OF  THE  SMALL  ANIMALS. 

record  Dr.  Mitchell  gives  of  the  behavior  of  the  small  animals  he  was 
constantly  placing  in  the  cages  of  his  large  colony  of  rattlesnakes,  bears 
directly  upon  this  point,  and  has  been  confirmed  by  other  writers.  None 
of  them  exhibited  any  terror  at  the  company  they  found  themselves  in, 
after  they  had  recovered  from  their  nervousness  at  being  handled.  "  The 
smaller  birds  .  .  .  soon  became  amusingly  familiar  with  the  snakes,  and 
were  seldom  molested,  even  when  caged  with  six  or  eight  large  crotali. 
The  mice,  which  were  similarly  situated,  lived  on  terms  of  easy  intimacy 
with  the  snakes,  sitting  on  their  heads,  moving  around  their  gliding  coils, 
undisturbed  and  unconscious  of  danger."  The  little  creatures  were  eager 
yet  timorous  to  examine  every  part  of  the  folded  and  strangely  clothed 
occupants  of  the  prison-cage.  When  visitors  as  large  as  dogs — against 
which,  by  the  way,  this  snake  shows  special  antipathy* — tried  a  close  in- 
vestigation, the  serpents  themselves  became  fearful,  sounded  their  rattles, 
and  struck  in  self-defence. 

This  innocence  of  danger  on  the  part  of  birds,  mice,  guinea-pigs,  etc., 
would  go  strongly  against  the  position  so  often  assumed,  to  begin  with, 
that  the  rattling  would  be  disadvantageous  to  the  snake  because  it  would 
instantly  frighten  away  the  small  animals  intended  as  prey  ;  since,  so  long 
as  the  serpent  does  not  chase  them,  they  seem  to  associate  no  harm  with 
his  face  or  his  music.  Why  should  they?  How  can  they  have  had  any 
experience  of  him  that  would  be  effective  to  their  minds?  A  horse  or 
deer  is  struck,  suffers,  and  recovers,  but  remembers  tenaciously  (very 
likely  instructs  his  young)  what  it  was  that  inflicted  the  injury.  Never 
a  squirrel  or  warbler  survives  to  profit  by  the  lesson  or  tell  the  tale,  and 
usually  there  are  no  witnesses  to  the  deed.  The  smaller  agile  serpents 
would  be  more  likely  to  inspire  general  alarm,  because  they  are  often 
seen  in  hot  pursuit  of  prey  they  do  not  always  catch. 

But  though  it  is  possible  that  by  playing  upon  the  curiosity,  or  even 
by  deceiving  through  mimicry,  the  crepitating  tail  might  now  and  then 
become  useful,  I  do  not  think  that,  as  an  aid  in  food-getting,  it  is  ever  of 
more  than  accidental  service.  As  a  matter  of  sober  fact,  ike  Tattle  is  not 
heard  when  the  erotalus  is  seeking  its  prey,  which  is  procured  by  stealth- 
ily crawling  upon  it,  or  by  lying  patient  and  rigid,  ambushed  in  the  ac- 
customed haunts  of  small  animals,  until  chance  favors. 

*  A  strange  bit  of  Indian  superstition  may  be  mentioned  here.  Among  the  northern 
Californians,  according  to  Bancroft,  snakes  appear  to  get  most  of  the  blame  for  sickness. 
The  medicine -men  of  this  race  pretend  to  discover  the  locality  of  the  reptile-spirit  in  the 
body  of  a  suffering  patient  by  barking  at  it  for  some  time,  the  idea  being  to  frighten  it 
away  as  a  dog  would  a  live  snake. 


REPTILIAN   MODES  OF  EXPRESSION 


What,  then,  is  the  raison  d'etre  of  this  rattle  ?  It  is  not  itself  a  weap- 
on, nor  has  it  anything  to  do  with  the  mechanism  or  effect  of  the  poison- 
fangs,  for  it  is  not  sounded  when  a  stroke  is  made  in  a  natural  and  un- 
alarmed  way,  for  the  sake  of  killing  food.  The  composure  with  which 
mice  and  squirrels  listen  to  this  strong  and  characteristic  racket  argues 
this  by  inference,  as  showing  that  they  do  not  connect  the  sound  with 
any  idea  of  harm.  If  it  is  true  that  the  tendency  to  make  rattles  in  this 
group  of  ophidians  has  been  "  seized  upon  by  natural  selection  and  made 
functional,"  then  it  seems  to  rne  that  everything  goes  to  show  that  this 
function  is  not  for  foraging,  but  is,  first,  one  of  defence  through  a  defiant 
warning,  and,  secondly,  a  means  of  calling  the  sexes  together,  thus  min- 
istering to  the  propagation  of  the  race. 

Fear,  or  the  restless  desire  for  companionship,  are  the  only  influences 
that  evoke  sounds  from  serpents  or  any  other  reptiles.  The  batrachians 
may  croak  and  pipe  for  fun,  but  the  bellowing  of  the  pine-snake,  the 
blowing  of  the  hog-nose,*  the  hissing  of  the  black  and  various  grass  snakes, 
is  only  heard  when  they  are  calling  to  the  other  sex  in  the  pairing  season, 
or  when  they  are  attacked.  The  rattlesnake,  however,  has  no  voice,  can 
make  none  of  these  sounds  with  his  throat,  so  that  his  means  of  communi- 
cation and  expression  are  confined  to  his  rattles,  and  the  more  you  attack 
or  annoy  him,  the  louder  is  his  utterance  of  protest.  This  is  to  be  seen 
plainly  with  fresh  captives,  full  of  alarm  at  confinement  and  observation. 

A  strong  illustration  occurred  on  one  occasion  when  I  was  one  of 
a  party  encamped  in  southern  Wyoming,  where  these  serpents  were 
most  plentiful  among  the  sage-brush.  Going  a  short  distance  from  my 
tent  one  evening,  I  was  suddenly  moved  to  make  a  most  active  leap  by 
the  baleful  whir  of  a  rattler  just  beside  me.  Regaining  my  composure, 
and  returning  to  the  charge  with  my  revolver  in  my  hand,  I  found  that 
his  snakeship  had  betaken  himself  to  a  gopher-hole,  where  I  could  hear 
a  lulled  crepitation.  Stamping  above  the  burrow  caused  the  tune  to  as- 
sume a  crescendo  instantly,  whereupon  I  sent  down  a  long  .032  to  further 
wake  up  the  musician.  His  rattling  now  was  loud  and  rapid.  I  fired  a 
second  time,  and  the  song  accelerated  until  all  rattling  blended  into  a 
steady  buzz.  If  I  had  hit  him  I  hadn't  killed  him,  it  was  evident,  so  a 
third  ball  and  stream  of  fire  was  shot  down  the  hole.  Out  of  the  report 

*  An  entertaining  and  suggestive  account  of  the  way  this  harmless  snake  behaves  when 
threatened  with  harm  appears  in  Science,  vol.  iii.,  p.  254.  Instead  of  fleeing,  it  flattens  its 
head,  hisses,  springs  menacingly,  and  snaps  fiercely ;  its  tail  vibrates  rapidly,  and  should 
there  be  any  dead  leaves  against  which  it  may  strike,  the  noise  will  be  greatly  similar  to 
that  of  the  rattlesnake,  which  it  seems  really  to  imitate  as  a  deliberate  measure  of  safety. 


\«rcV    MEANING  OF  THE  BATTLING. 

came  a  shrill,  high-pitched  humming,  which  told  of  swifter  vibration  than 
even  the  buzzing  had  showed.  Surely  a  snake  was  never  more  excited 
since  the  world  began!  But  speedily  this  became  feeble,  intermittent, 
and  soon  ceased  altogether,  so  that  I  concluded  my  shots  had  finally 
reached  him  with  fatal  effect. 

That  the  rattling  of  the  crotali  answers  the  purpose  of  a  call,  we 
know  from  the  fact,  recorded  in  many  places,  that  other  rattlesnakes 
quickly  respond  and  hasten  towards  the  one  ringing  his  alarum.  More- 
over, in  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  the  snakes  sometimes  make  the 
sound  loudly  and  long,  when  they  have  no  apparent  reason  to  be  alarmed, 
but,  by  the  argument  from  analogy,  can  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be 
calling  the  opposite  sex.  That  the  rattling  of  one  serpent  in  captivity 
has  an  immediate  effect  upon  other  crotali  within  hearing  is  constantly 
observed ;  and  in  the  cases  where  the  young  have  been  seen  to  run  into 
the  mouth  of  an  old  one  for  protection,  they  appear  to  have  been  sum- 
moned and  informed  of  their  danger  by  this  signal.  The  instant  the 
snake  suspects  danger  it  throws  itself  into  the  coil  of  vantage  and  sounds 
its  long  roll,  varying  the  swiftness  of  the  vibration  and  the  consequent 
loudness  of  its  note  as  its  apprehensions  increase  or  diminish.  The  noise 
itself  may  not  be  instinctively  fear-inspiring,  nor,  perhaps,  is  the  growling 
of  a  lion,  but  in  each  case  experience  has  taught  men  and  the  large  quad- 
rupeds that  that  growl  and  this  rattle  mean  not  only  a  willingness  to  de- 
fend, but  the  certain  ability  to  do  deadly  harm.  This  menacing  message, 
clicked  from  the  vibrating  tail,  has  caused  many  a  man  to  turn  back  and 
give  the  snake  a  chance  to  escape,  and  at  the  same  time  it  has  been  a 
warning  to  all  other  crotali  within  hearing  to  prepare  for  battle  or  seek 
safety  in  flight. 

Though  man  and  his  hogs*  are  now  the  worst  enemies  of  the  rattle- 
snake, he  has  various  others,  principally  colubrine  serpents,  who  delight 
in  chasing  and  killing  him.  Of  these  the  chief  examples  are  the  black- 
snake  and  blue  racer  (or  "pilot")  in  the  North,  several  western  species, 
and  the  king-snake  of  the  South.  Leaping  upon  the  fleeing  and  demor- 
alized rattler,  they  seize  his  neck  in  their  teeth,  and  quick  as  thought 
wrap  their  folds  about  him  with  crushing  power. 

The  king -snake  enjoys  protection  at  the  South,  because  of  this 
championship,  against  the  noxious  rattler,  in  which,  however,  he  is  by  no 

*  It  is  generally  believed  that  the  hog  is  safe  from  the  poison  of  the  rattlesnake.  This 
is  so  only  because  his  thick  skin  and  layers  of  fat  prevent  the  venom  in  the  majority  of 
cases  from  reaching  his  circulation.  Swine  are  fond  of  flesh,  and  greedily  devour  the 
snakes  they  are  so  quick  to  kill  by  stamping. 


ANATOMY  OF   THE   POISON  APPARATUS. 


103 


means  alone.  Pennant  is  authority  for  the  statement,  which  I  have  no 
other  proof  of,  that  the  land-tortoise  "is  an  utter  enemy  to  the  rattle- 
snake ;  will  seize  it  below  the  neck,  and  by  drawing  its  own  head  into  its 
shell  becomes  invulnerable.  The  snake  entwines  about  the  tortoise,  but 
is  soon  destroyed  and  left  on  the  ground."  There  is  a  queer  belief 
among  some  of  the  negroes,  by-the-way,  that  if  a  snake  is  killed  by  the 
rattler,  the  blacksnake  rubs  against  the  body  and  brings  it  to  life ;  hence 
that  species  is  called  the  "  doctor-snake." 

However  the  crotalus  may  manoeuvre  to  get  his  victims  within  reach, 
once  there  he  has  a  weapon  on  whose  certainty  he  has  no  fear  of  relying 
— the  poisoned  fangs  in  his  opened  jaws.  The  anatomy  of  the  head  and 
poison  apparatus,  and  re- 
searches upon  the  ven- 
om of  the  rattlesnake, 
formed  the  subject  of  a 
long  series  of  experi- 
ments, some  years  ago, 
by  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell, 
of  Philadelphia,  which 
resulted  in  the  publica- 
tion of  an  elaborate 
memoir  in  the  twelfth 
volume  of  the  "  Smith- 
sonian's Contributions  to 
Knowledge."  To  this  memoir  further  researches  have  recently  been 
added. 

In  repose  and  unmolested  the  snake  sometimes  lies  at  full  length, 
sometimes  twisted  up ;  in  confinement,  where  several  are  in  the  same 
cage,  it  is  very  fond  of  entangling  itself  with  its  fellows.  The  instant  it 

is  alarmed,  however,  it  throws 
its  body  into  the  familiar  coil, 
its  tail  protruding  enough  to 
admit  of  its  vibration,  the  for- 
ward part  of  the  body  lying  in 
short  curves  across  the  mass  of 
coils,  and  the  head  held  three 
or  four  inches  erect.  In  this 
position  a  sudden  and  violent 
contraction  of  the  muscles  upon 


CRANIUM  OP  CROTALUS,  WITH  MUSCLES  CONCERNED  IN 
THE   VENOM   STROKE. 

a,  a,  venom  gland;  b,  anterior  temporal  muscle  ;  c,  posterior  temporal 
muscle;  d,  digastricns;  e,  posterior  ligament  of  the  sheath  of  the 
gland ;  /,  vagina  dentis,  the  fang  slightly  raised.  (Mitchell.) 


BONES  OF   THE   UPPER  JAW. 


a,  external  pterygoid  bone;  6,  internal  pterygoid;  c,  pala 
tal;  d,  superior  maxillary  ;  e,  lachrymal.    (Mitchell.) 


the    convexity    of    the    curves 


104 


METHODS  OF  CAPTURE  AND  HANDLING. 


0,0,  anterior  temporal  muscle;  &,  its  insertion  in  the  lower  jaw: 
c,  venom  glaud;  d,  the  fang,  half  erected.    (Mitchell.) 


near  the  neck  dart  the  head  forward,  and  are  accompanied  by  a  wonder- 
ful series  of  muscular  operations  resulting  in  the  poisoned  stroke.  The 
mechanism  of  this  action,  the  poison  and  its  nature,  and  apparatus  for 

its  discharge,  are  matters 
upon  which  I  need  not 
touch  here.  Dr.  Mit- 
chell's paper,  alluded  to 
on  page  103,  discusses 
them  thoroughly ;  and 
the  accompanying  illus- 
trations, redrawn  from  his 
monograph,  make  plain 
the  anatomy  of  the  com- 

RELATION  OF   TEMPORAL  MUSCLES  TO  THE  GLAN^.  plicated  poisOIl  apparatus. 

Similarly  the  interesting 
pathological  effects  of  the 
venom,  which  is  a  septic  or  putrefacient  poison  of  astounding  energ}T, 
may  be  omitted. 

When  one  recalls  how  many  of  these  venomous  serpents  have  been 
secured  alive,  the  question  of  how  they  are  caught  becomes  one  of  some 
interest.  The  Indian  method  was  to  put  a  long  forked  stick  over  their 
necks,  and  then  noose  them  with  a  bit  of  thong.  This  is  the  ordinary 
fashion  yet,  and  quite  safe  if  you  are  careful.  The  circumstance  that  a 
big  one  once  crawled  out  from  under  my  blankets  in  a  Rocky  Mountain 
camping- place,  when  they  were  pulled  aside  in  the  morning,  gave  me  an 
opportunity  to  see  a  man  seize  a  rattler  b}r  the  tail  and  dislocate  its  head 
by  a  strong  snap  before  the  reptile  had  time  to  coil.  Simpson  relates 
that  his  taxidermist  caught  one  by  the  back  of  the  neck  in  Utah ;  and 
that  coolest  of  men,  Charles  Waterton,  could  do  this  every  time,  as  he 
showed  in  England  to  prove  that  he  had  not  been  romancing  when  he 
described  his  encounters  with  deadly  serpents  in  South  America.  A  box 
of  twenty-seven  living  crotali  had  been  sent  to  Leeds,  and  Waterton  in- 
vited a  large  party  of  scientific  friends  to  see  him  move  them  one  by  one 
to  a  glass  case  and  back  again.  This  he  did  (after  cautioning  the  visitors 
neither  to  move  nor  speak)  by  silently,  slowly,  and  quietly  slipping  his 
hand  along  the  back  of  each  snake  till  he  could  grasp  him  gently  behind 
the  head  and  softly  lift  him  into  the  other  box.  He  trusted  for  his  im- 
munity to  the  sluggish  nature  of  the  creatures,  and  to  the  fact  that  he 
did  nothing  to  arouse  their  fears. 

Once  in  West  Virginia  I  had  brought  to  me  a  good -sized  rattler  that 


EDIBLE   QUALITIES   OF  THE   FLESH.  105 

a  woman  had  caught  when  berrying  in  the  mountains.  Two  children 
were  with  her,  and  they  suddenly  disturbed  four  of  the  snakes.  Remem- 
bering my  advertisement  for  living  reptiles,  the  family  applied  them- 
selves to  capturing  the  whole  four,  but  only  succeeded  in  getting  this 
one  unmanned  by  pinning  it  to  the  ground  with  a  forked  stick.  Then 
the  problem  arose,  how  to  fasten  and  carry  the  creature.  Having  a  long 
piece  of  twine  and  a  tin  collender  with  her,  the  woman  made  a  slip-noose 
of  the  string  and  passed  it  up  through  one  of  the  holes  in  the  bottom  of 
the  vessel.  Then,  by  the  aid  of  a  switch,  the  noose  was  looped  over  the 
triangular  head  of  the  captive,  and  the  collender  (inverted)  let  fall  upon 
him  as  the  boy  removed  his  prong.  Mr.  Snake  at  once  coiled  up  in  the 
round  tin  dish  and  began  singing  in  his  highest  key,  but  the  check-string 
through  the  bottom  held  his  head  down,  and  thus  ignominiously  he  was 
brought  to  my  house.  "I've  packed  the  ornery  critter  a  heap  of  a  dis- 
tance, 'n'  I  reckin  I  oughter  have  six  bits,"  the  woman  said,  and  I  cheer- 
fully paid  it. 

It  has  already  been  asserted  that  the  poisonous  quality  of  the  snake 
resides  wholly  in  the  fluid  of  the  venom-gland.  A  wound  from  the  other 
teeth  does  no  harm,  and  the  Indians  and  some  rural  doctors  of  old  days 
used  the  sharp  little  points,  set  comb-like  in  a  split  reed,  as  convenient 
and  effective  scarifiers  when  blood  was  to  be  let  for  medicinal  or  supersti- 
tious ends.  No  fang  could  ever  be  used  safely  for  that  purpose.  The 
flesh,  too,  which  is  white  and  flaky,  like  that  of  frogs  or  the  breast  of 
birds,  has  often  served  as  food,  its  forming  a  part  of  the  aboriginal  fare 
being  noticed  by  the  earliest  writers.  Josselyn  tells  us  that  the  New 
England  Indians,  u  when  weary  with  travelling,"  will  take  up  rattlesnakes 
with  their  bare  hands,  "laying  hold  with,  one  hand  behind  their  head, 
with  the  other  taking  hold  of  their  tail,  and  with  their  teeth  tear  off  the 
skin  of  their  backs,  and  feed  upon  them  alive;  which,  the}7  say,  refresheth 
them."  It  is  possible  in  this  practice  to  see  the  doctrine  of  transmutation 
of  qualities  (namely,  that  the  human  spirit  will  become  imbued  with  the 
characteristics  of  what  the  body  is  fed  upon)  which  led  to  cannibalism, 
and  operates  throughout  all  the  savage  theory  of  life;  but  Charlevoix  has 
no  mysterious  benefit  in  view,  beyond  the  satisfaction  of  hunger,  when  he 
says  the  Canadian  Indians  "  chace  it,  and  find  its  Flesh  very  good.  I  have 
even  heard  some  Frenchmen,  who  had  tasted  it,  say  that  it  was  not  bad 
eating;  but  they  were  travellers,  and  such  People  think  everything  good, 
because  they  are  often  hungry.  But  this  [is]  at  least  certain,  that  it  does 
no  harm  to  those  that  eat  it." 

The  worthy  man  need  not  have  been   so  incredulous  and  sarcastic. 


106  THE  RATTLESNAKE  IN  MEDICINE. 

When  Bartram  was  in  Florida  he  was  asked  to  sit  down  to  a  feast  with 
the  chief  military  man  of  the  region,  where  the  central  dish  was  the  car- 
cass of  a  great  diamond  rattlesnake  the  naturalist  had  killed  that  morning. 
Long  ("  Travels  of  an  Indian  Interpreter ")  confessed  that  the  flesh  was 
"delicious,"  arid  that  he  had  frequently  eaten  it  "with  great  gout."  To 
the  darkies  of  the  cotton  states  the  rattler  is  always  edible.  Only  a 
year  ago  I  was  told  by  a  gentleman  in  Alabama  of  two  servants  whom 
he  caught  bitterly  disputing  over  a  carcass  of  this  reptile. 

"  Why,  Jake,"  said  he  to  one  of  the  negroes,  "  what's  the  use  of  a 
quarrel  ?  You  couldn't  get  more  than  fifty  cents  for  it  any  way." 

"Don'  want 's  hide,"  was  Jake's  reply.  "Jim  can  hab  dat.  I  wants 
his  flesh  to  eat !" 

Instances  of  this  might  be  multiplied,  but  I  leave  them  to  say  some- 
thing about  the  place  of  the  rattlesnake  in  popular  pharmacy.  Quoting 
Loskiel :  "  The  flesh  of  the  rattlesnake,  dried  and  boiled  to  a  broth,  is  said 
to  be  more  nourishing  than  that  of  the  viper,  and  of  service  in  consump- 
tions. Their  gall  is  likewise  used  as  a  medicine.  .  .  .  The  skin  usually 
shed  by  rattlesnakes  is  dried  and  pounded  fine  by  the  Indians,  who  use 
it  internally  for  many  purposes."  John  Carver  records  that  the  Chippe- 
ways  extracted  splinters  with  the  cast  skin.  "  It  is  amazing,"  he  exclaims, 
"  to  see  the  sudden  efficacy  of  this  application,  notwithstanding  there  does 
not  appear  to  be  the  least  moisture  remaining  in  it."  Brickell,  in  his 
quaint  "  Natural  History  of  North  Carolina,"  also  refers  to  this  point. 
"These  Snakes,"  he  says,  "cast  their  Skins  every  Year,  and  commonly 
remain  near  the  Place  where  the  old  Skin  lies.  These  cast  Skins  are  fre- 
quently pulverized,  and  given  with  good  success  in  Fevers;  so  is  the  Gall 
mixed  with  Clay,  made  up  in  Pills,  and  given  in  Pestilential  Fevers  and 
the  Small  Pox,  for  which  it  is  accounted  a  noble  Remedy  and  a  great 
Arcanum,  which  only  some  few  pretend  to  know,  and  to  have  had  the 
first  Knowledge  and  Experience  of  for  many  Years ;  so  are  the  Rattles 
good  to  expedite  the  Birth,  and  no  doubt  but  it  has  all  those  excellent 
Virtues  that  the  Yiper  is  endued  with."  We  learn  from  Thomas  Carn- 
panius  that  a  similar  notion  prevailed  among  the  Swedes  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Delaware. 

The  use  of  rattles  in  parturition  or  for  abortion  seems  to  have  been 
very  wide-spread  among  our  aborigines,  extending  into  Mexico  and  far 
northward,  A  Dakota  medicine-man  explained  it  by  saying  that  the 
child  heard  the  rattle,  and,  supposing  the  snake  was  coming,  made  haste 
to  get  out  of  its  way — a  remarkable  example  of  hereditary  instinct !  This 
is  nonsense,  of  course.  The  real  explanation  of  the  custom  belongs  to  the 


THE  VIRTUES   OF  RATTLESNAKE   OIL.  107 

category  of  religions  superstition,  as  does  a  large  part  of  savage  medical 
practice. 

In  casting  its  skin  every  spring,  the  serpent  seems  to  renew  its  life — a 
marvellous  and  suggestive  thing.  ~No  wonder  the  childlike  Indians  saw 
in  this  something  supernatural,  and  stored  the  cast-off  skins  in  the  medi- 
cine-bag, believing  them  endowed  with  fetishistic  and  remedial  virtues. 
"  Itself  thus  immortal,  they  thought  it  could  impart  vitality  to  them.  So, 
when  the  mother  was  travailing  in  sore  pain,  and  the  danger  n eared  that 
the  child  would  be  born  silent,  the  attending  women  hastened  to  catch 
some  serpent  and  give  her  its  blood  to  drink."  Among  the  red  men  of 
the  New  World,  as  with  ancient  Esculapians  in  the  Old,  it  stands  as  the 
sign  of  the  remedial  art. 

Europeans  were  not  slow  in  accepting  these  Indian  ideas  of  medicine, 
and  have  been  still  slower  in  giving  them  up. 

I  have  heard  within  very  modern  days  of  rattlesnake  oil  prescribed 
as  a  febrifuge  and  for  divers  other  ailments,  while  its  value  in  rheumatism 
is  regarded  by  few  persons  with  doubt.  The  demand  for  it  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  the  serpents  are  often  hunted  systematically  in  order  that 
quantities  of  their  oil  may  be  obtained.  That  was  the  object  the  men 
of  Warren  County,  New  York,  had  in  killing  the  eleven  hundred  snakes 
of  which  De  Kay  gives  an  account.  Every  summer,  to  this  day,  citizens 
of  Portland,  Connecticut,  go  out  to  the  Rattlesnake  Ledges  and  catch  the 
reptiles  with  gaff-hooks,  the  local  druggists  paying  them  four  dollars  an 
ounce  for  the  oil,  which  finds  ready  sale.  A  prominent  physician  in 
Washington  told  me  of  a  case  within  his  knowledge  where  a  man  suffer- 
ing from  an  ulcer  took  a  rattlesnake  into  his  bed  with  the  vague  idea  of 
somehow  extracting  the  virulence  of  the  sore.  In  some  rural  districts 
men  wear  the  rattles  in  their  hats  as  a  remedy  for  headache ;  and  I  knew 
of  a  case  in  the  Watauga  Mountains  of  North  Carolina  where  a  man  who 
was  far  gone  with  consumption  hung  the  bod}7  of  a  rattlesnake  to  dry  and 
smoke  in  his  chimney,  where  he  might  nibble  at  it  and  get  well.  His  faith 
was  weak,  and  he  did  not  take  the  medicine ;  but  a  sickly  boy  began  to 
pull  the  flesh  from  the  skeleton,  and  grew  fat  and  sturdy  before  he  had 
finished  it.  In  the  Eastern  States  it  used  to  be  considered  a  "specific" 
in  cases  of  epilepsy — a  disease  with  which  more  witchcraft  and  super- 
stition is  mixed  up  than  almost  any  other  on  the  catalogue. 

No  red-skinned  sorcerer's  medicine- bag  is  complete  without  some 
fragment  of  this  striking  arid  half  sacred  reptile  in  it ;  while  negroes  at 
the  South,  who  are  sufficiently  superstitious  to  wear  charm-bags,  regard 
the  curious  rattles  as  among  the  most  precious  of  their  amulets. 


108  ANTIDOTES  AND  INCANTATIONS. 

In  view  of  these  facts  it  is  not  strange  that  parts  of  the  serpent  should 
be  regarded  of  value  as  a  specific  against  the  poison  of  its  own  bite. 
Similia  similibus  curantur — hair  of  the  dog  cures  the  bite — is  a  precious 
doctrine  in  the  old  pharmacopoeia,  and  one  handed  down  from  savagely, 
I  fancy.  Thus,  according  to  the  Spanish  historians,  the  Opatas,  a  Mexican 
race,  took  this  plan  when  one  of  their  people  was  bitten  :  Seizing  the  rep- 
tile's head  between  two  sticks,  the  unfortunate  Indian  would  stretch  the 
creature  out  and  bite  it  along  the  body;  whereupon,  as  in  Goldsmith's 
poem  of  the  hero  of  Islington,  the  man  recovers  of  the  bite,  the  snake  it 
is  that  dies.  New  England  tribes  prescribed  a  powder  from  the  serpent's 
cast  skin,  the  Delawares  and  Chippeways  rubbed  its  fat  into  the  wound, 
and  the  Potawatamies  kept  the  fang  about  them  as  a  sure  charm 
against  the  bite. 

As  this  chapter  would  be  made  far  too  long  by  discussing  the  effects 
of  crotalus  venom  upon  the  vital  system,  so  it  must  omit  the  matter  of 
antidotes  further  than  to  allude  to  the  fact  that  many  plants  have  been 
regarded  as  efficacious,  the  reason,  apparently,  being  that  something  about 
them  bore  a  fancied  resemblance  to  a  serpent  (e.  g.,  the  root  of  the  black- 
snake  wood),  which  convinced  the  credulous  old  herbalists  that  the  plant 
was  manifestly  designed  by  Providence  for  tin's  purpose.  Thus  Du  Pratz, 
in  his  "History  of  Louisiana"  (vol.  ii,  p.  43),  describes  the  curative  power 
of  the  "rattlesnake  herb" — apparently  the  same  from  which  I  drew  an 
"argument"  in  earlier  pages — saying  of  it,  that  "  when  the  head  is  ripe  it 
will,  when  shaken,  give  the  same  sound  as  the  tail  of  a  rattlesnake,  which 
seems  to  indicate  the  property  of  the  plant." 

In  the  far  West  various  local  plants  possess  this  beneficent  distinction, 
and  to  some  of  them  deers  and  bisons  are  said  to  resort  for  healing ;  but 
I  disbelieve  it,  and  notice  that  the  Indians  hold  the  snake  in  the  greatest 
terror  despite  the  herbs.  The  Nishinams  of  California,  indeed,  seek  super- 
natural protection  against  bites  during  the  ensuing  season  by  a  sportive 
ceremony  that  takes  place  every  spring.  Among  the  Pomos,  another  once 
powerful  tribe  of  northern  California,  an  annual  ceremony  of  the  direst 
import  was  gone  through  with  by  the  men  on  purpose  to  frighten  and 
properly  subjugate  their  women.  The  personation  of  devils  and  their 
doings  was  enacted  in  every  way,  and  the  whole  affair  wound  up  by  a 
grand  oration  from  the  venerable  peace-chief — a  sort  of  high-priest  of  the 
tribe — in  which  he  brandished  full  in  the  faces  of  the  squaws  a  rattle- 
snake held  in  his  hand,  threatening  supernatural  ills  if  they  failed  in 
chastity  and  obedience,  until  many  of  them  fell  in  a  swoon  of  terror. 

This  powerful  effect  is  obtained  through   their  religious  notion   of 


THE   RATTLESNAKE  IN  SAVAGE  METEMPSYCHOSIS.  109 

the  transmigration  of  souls — a  belief  almost  universal  among  our  native 
Americans.  Good  Indians  go  at  once  to  happiness,  but  the  souls  of  bad 
Indians  take  up  their  abode  in  various  animals  of  evil  repute.  In  this 
baleful  list  shakes  take  a  prominent  place,  and  become  "  an  object  of 
superstitious  belief  and  unfeigned  terror,  inasmuch  as  they  consider  them 
to  be  vivified  by  the  souls  of  the  impious  dead,  despatched  as  special 
emissaries  of  the  devil  to  work  them  evil."  With  the  Apaches,  for  ex- 
ample, this  is  a  very  distinct  doctrine.  To  the  Porno  squaw,  therefore, 
the  rattlesnake  brandished  before  her  eyes,  under  the  hot  denunciations 
of  the  orator,  was  not  simply  a  suggestion  of  eternal  punishment,  like  the 
smell  of  brimstone  to  a  Puritan,  but  a  visible  incarnation  of  one  of  the 
foremost  of  those  malevolent  forces  which  the  Indian  supposed  filled  the 
world,  existing  only  for  his  annoyance,  and  turning  his  religion  into 
demonology. 

This  doctrine  of  "animism,"  as  it  has  been  called,  existed  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree  among  all  the  aborigines,  conferring  upon  every  object  in 
nature,  and  especially  upon  animals,  spiritual  qualities,  or  a  shade,  through 
which  it  was  able  to  exert  an.  influence  upon  humanity.  The  more  pow- 
erful to  inflict  harm  anything  showed  itself  to  be,  the  more  awe  and  devo- 
tion it  required.  Thus  the  dangerous  currents  of  falls  and  whirlpools  are 
supplicated  and  offered  sacrifices,  to  propitiate  the  resident  spirit  animat- 
ing the  disturbed  waters  and  contending  with  the  canoe. 

When  an  Ojibway  warrior  prepared  for  battle,  the  rattlesnake  was  a 
part  of  his  accoutrements.  "It  is  always  observable,"  says  Peter  Jones, 
"  that  the  Indians  take  out  the  bag  which  contains  the  poison  of  this 
venomous  reptile,  and  carry  it  alive  in  their  medicine-box  when  they  go 
to  war."  Another  custom  was  to  wrap  about  their  waists  a  black  water- 
snake — alive  at  first,  but  retained  after  its  slow  death  until  the  end  of  the 
foray. 

Thus  among  animals  the  whole  class  of  serpents  came  to  take  high 
rank  in  the  long  catalogue  of  spirits,  and  the  rattlesnake,  with  his  satanic 
face  and  terrible  fangs,  rose  above  all  into  a  superior  and  distinct  deity, 
which  was  held  by  some  groups  of  Indian  tribes  in  the  greatest  fear  and 
veneration  —  terms  nearly  or  quite  synonymous  in  aboriginal  theology. 
This  was  especially  noticeable  among  that  race  whose  home  was  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Great  Lakes.  In  the  Ojibway  country  a  rattlesnake 
was  never  killed  except  under  some  stress  of  circumstances,  when  "  it 
was  accompanied  by  forms  and  ceremonies,  and  a  sacrifice  was  left  near 
the  carcass."  Some  Atlantic  coast  tribes  made  it  a  water-god — an  easy 
suggestion  from  the  sinuous,  serpent-like  course  of  a  river.  "Kennebec, 


110  SYMBOLISM  OF  THIS  SERPENT. 

a  stream  in  Maine,  in  the  Algonkin  means  snake,  and  Antietam,  the  creek 
in  Maryland  of  tragic  celebrity,  in  an  Iroquois  dialect  lias  the  same  signifi- 
cance." Of  others  it  was  the  tribal  token,  an  instance  being  the  Snakes 
of  Idaho,  a  division  of  the  Shoshonee  family. 

The  wriggling  attitudes  of  the  snake  helped  the  strong  snggestiveness 
of  its  swiftly  glancing  forked  tongue  to  erect  it  into  an  earthly  symbol 
of  the  zigzag  lightning;  and  by  the  Shawnees  thunder  was  described  as 
the  hissing  of  a  great  snake.  Almost  all  the  tribes  had  a  mythical  and 
gigantic  thunder-bird  (birds  and  serpents  are  closely  related  in  the  nature- 
myths  of  all  nations);  and  in  most  of  the  stories  about  it  a  serpent  takes 
an  accessary  part,  as  held  in  its  claws  and  shown  in  the  lightning;  as  rob- 
bing its  nest;  as  dwelling  in  volcanoes  and  other  inaccessible  homes  of 
the  thunder-bird ;  and  as  otherwise  performing  mysterious  and  supernat- 
ural functions.  This  appears  plainly,  not  only  in  their  myths  but  in  the 
pictographs,  and  accords  well  with  the  fact  generally  accepted  by  compara- 
tive mythologists,  that  the  meaning  paramount  to  all  others  in  the  ser- 
pent emblems  of  European  mythology  is  the  lightning. 

In  that  admirable  book,  "Myths  of  the  New  World,"  Dr.  Daniel  G. 
Brinton  has  written  two  or  three  pages  covering  this  point  so  well  that 
I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  a  part  of  it,  though  at  some  length : 

"In  snake-charming,  as  a  proof  of  proficiency  in  magic,  and  in  the 
symbol  of  the  lightning,  which  brings  both  fire  and  water,  which  in  its 
might  controls  victory  in  war,  and  in  its  frequency  plenteous  crops  at 
home,  lies  the  secret  of  the  serpent  symbol.  As  the  l war-physic'  among 
the  tribes  of  the  United  States  was  a  fragment  of  a  serpent,  and  as  thus 
signifying  his  incomparable  skill  in  war,  the  Iroquois  represent  their 
mythical  king  Atatarho  clothed  in  nothing  but  blacksnakes  ...  so,  by 
a  precisely  similar  mental  process,  the  myth  of  the  Nahnas  assigns  as 
a  mother  to  their  war -god  Huitzilopochtli,  Coatlicue,  the  robe  of  ser- 
pents. .  .  .  Her  son's  image  was  surrounded  by  serpents,  his  sceptre  was 
in  the  shape  of  one,  his  drum  was  of  serpent's  skin,  and  his  statue  rested 
on  four  vermiform  caryatides. 

"As  the  S3Tmbol  of  the  fertilizing  showers,  the  god  of  lightning  was 
the  god  of  fruitfulness.*  Born  in  the  atmospheric  waters,  it  was  an  ap- 
propriate attribute  of  the  ruler  of  the  winds.  .  .  .  Quetzalcoatl,  called  also 
Yolcnat,  the  rattlesnake,  was  no  less  intimately  associated  with  serpents 


*  This  gives  a  Lint  of  the  philosophy  inspiring  the  supposed  efficacy  of  rattlesnake 
amulets,  ointments,  and  potions,  savage  and  half-civilized,  in  cases  of  parturition,  which 
are  referred  to  on  pages  98  and  106. — E.  I. 


VENERATION   OF  THE   RATTLESNAKE.  Ill 

than  with  birds.  The  entrance  to  his  temple  at  Mexico  represented  the 
jaws  of  one  of  these  reptiles,  and  he  finally  disappeared  in  the  province  of 
Coatzacoalco,  the  hiding-place  of  the  serpent,  sailing  towards  the  east  in 
a  bark  of  serpents'  skins.  All  this  refers  to  his  power  over  the  lightning 
serpent. 

"He  was  also  said  to  be  the  god  of  riches,  and  the  patron,  consequently, 
of  merchants,  for  with  the  summer  lightning  come  the  harvest  and  the 
ripening  fruits,  come  riches  and  traffic.  Moreover, i  the  golden  color  of 
the  liquid  fire,'  as  Lucretius  expresses  it,  naturally  led,  where  this  metal 
was  known,  to  its  being  deemed  the  product  of  the  lightning.  Thus 
originated  many  of  those  tales  of  a  dragon  who  watches  a  treasure  in  the 
earth,  and  of  a  serpent  who  is  the  dispenser  of  riches  such  as  were  found 
among  the  Greeks  and  ancient  Germans.  So  it  was  in  Peru,  where  the 
God  of  Riches  was  worshipped  under  the  image  of  a  rattlesnake,  horned 
and  hairy,  with  a  tail  of  gold.  It  was  said  to  have  descended  from  the 
heavens  in  the  sight  of  all  the  people,  and  to  have  been  seen  by  the  whole 
army  of  the  Inca.  .  .  . 

"Because  the  rattlesnake,  the  lightning  serpent,  is  thus  connected 
with  the  food  of  man,  and  itself  seems  never  to  die,  but  annually  to  renew 
its  youth,  the  Algonkins  called  it  'grandfather,'  and  'King  of  Snakes.' 
They  feared  to  injure  it ;  they  believed  it  could  grant  prosperous  breezes, 
or  raise  disastrous  tempests ;  crowned  with  the  lunar  crescent*  it  was  the 
constant  symbol  of  life  in  their  picture-writing;  and  in  the  meda  signs 
the  mythical  grandmother  of  mankind,  Me-suck-kum-me-go-kwa,  was  in- 
differently represented  by  an  old  woman  or  a  serpent.  For  like  reasons 
Cihuacoatl,  the  Serpent  Woman,  in  the  myths  of  the  Nahuas,  was  also 
called  Tonantzin,  our  mother. 

"  The  prominence  of  the  rattlesnake  as  a  peculiarly  American  symbol, 
indicated  by  these  references,  has  received  most  ingenious  and  abundant 
illustration  from  indigenous  art  through  the  studies  of  Dr.  Harrison 
Allen.  Commencing  with  the  suggestive  remark  that  the  serpent  is  the 
*  only  animal  facile  to  the  purposes  of  the  pattern-maker,'  he  has  traced  its 
variant  forms  in  the  picture-writing,  the  phonetic  signs,  and  the  architec- 
tural ornaments  of  the  red  race,  and  shown  the  remarkable  preference  they 
had  for  the  line  representing  the  profile  of  the  head  of  the  rattlesnake, 
to  the  radical  of  which  he  has  applied  the  term  'the  Crotalean  curve.' 

"The  serpent  symbol  in  America  has,  however,  met  with  frequent 

*  In  a  Nishinam  (California)  myth,  according  to  Powers,  the  moon  created  the  rattle- 
snake.— E.  I. 


112  ABORIGINAL  MYTHS  AND  SUPERSTITIONS. 

misinterpretation.  It  had  such  an  ominous  significance  in  Christian  art, 
and  one  which  chimed  so  well  with  the  favorite  proverb  of  the  early  mis- 
sionaries— 'the  gods  of  the  heathen  are  devils' — that  wherever  they  saw 
a  carving  or  picture  of  a  serpent,  they  at  once  recognized  the  sign-manual 
of  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  and  inscribed  the  fact  in  their  note-books  as 
proof  positive  of  their  cherished  theory.  After  going  over  the  whole 
ground,  I  am  convinced  that  none  of  the  tribes  of  the  red  race  attached 
to  this  symbol  any  ethical  significance  whatever,  and  that  as  employed  to 
express  atmospheric  phenomena  and  the  recognition  of  divinity  in  natu- 
ral occurrences,  it  far  more  frequently  typified  what  was  favorable  and 
agreeable  than  the  reverse." 

I  think  investigation  would  show,  in  respect  to  the  American  rattle- 
snake, that  the  veneration  of  it  was  strongest  and  most  grossly  mani- 
fested in  those  regions  where  this  serpent  was  less  often  seen,  and  hence 
more  invested  with  mystery  than  in  an  open  country  like  the  Texas 
plains  or  the  Utah  basin,  where  it  was  far  more  plentiful  and  seen  nearly 
every  day.  It  is  noteworthy,  for  example,  in  the  legends  of  the  Kai-vav- 
vits,  living  at  the  head  of  the  canons  of  the  Rio  Colorado,  where  snakes 
are  almost  as  plentiful  as  sage-brush,  that  the  rattler  figures  as  one  of 
the  first  and  most  powerful  of  the  demigods  from  whom  that  race  count 
their  descent ;  and  he  is  not  regarded  with  the  superstitious  terror  seen 
on  Lake  Superior  and  elsewhere,  but  as  a  master  of  cunning  and  the  art 
of  success. 

He  does  many  wonderful  things  in  these  myths  by  virtue  of  his 
power  of  rendering  himself  invisible.  Thus,  when  the  migrating  host 
of  one  of  the  stories  was  famishing,  and  an  antelope  was  seen,  Shin- 
ati-av,  the  Coyote — a  greater  man  in  popular  estimation  than  To-go-av, 
the  Rattlesnake — proposed  at  once  to  go  and  kill  it ;  "  but  To-go-av  de- 
murred, and  said, 'It  were  better  that  I  should  go,  for  he  will  see  you 
and  run  away  .  .  .  but  I  can  kill  him,  for  I  can  go  where  he  is,  and  he 
cannot  see  me.' "  It  is  perfectly  natural  that  the  secretive  habits  and 
the  almost  invisible,  imitative  hue  of  this  rock-hiding  reptile  should  find 
such  expression  in  a  myth  of  which  his  doings  form  a  part. 


X. 


"MINE  OYSTER'S"  BATTLE  OF  LIFE. 

rpHE  oyster  is  a  creature  whose  battles  are  wholly  those  of  defence. 
-•-  He  maintains  a  strong  inertia,  closes  the  ports  of  his  fortress,  makes 
no  sallies,  and  defies  the  enemy  to  harm  him  by  any  means  short  of 
demolishing  his  walls.  That  achieved,  he  has  no  further  means  of  resist- 
ance and  quietly  submits  to  his  fate. 

To  the  enjoyment  in  troublous  times  of  this  otium  cum  dignitate  he 
is  entitled  by  a  venturous  youth  passed  amid  the  dangers  of  the  deep, 
where  foes /without  number  lie  in  wait  for  tender  offspring.  To  begin 
db  ovOj  the  eggs  of  American  o}rsters  are  not  held  under  cover  of  the 
parent  shells  until  they  hatch,  as  is  the  case  with  the  European  oyster, 
but  are  discharged  by  the  mother,  unfertilized,  into  the  water,  where, 
first  of  all,  they  must  await  the  chance  of  ac- 
cidental impregnation ;  this,  moreover,  must 
come  within  a  very  short  time  if  it  is  to 
come  at  all. 

Enormous  is  the  multitude  of  these  eggs. 
The  eminent  biologist,  Dr.  W.  K.  Brooks,  esti- 
mates that  ten  millions  is  the  average  yield 
from  each  individual,  and  that  as  many  as 
sixty  millions  may  be  laid  by  a  single  mother- 
oyster.  This  prodigious  supply  is  needed  to 
counteract  the  risks  they  are  destined  to  run. 
Says  Professor  Ryder: 

"So  numerous  and  effective  are  the  adverse  conditions  which  sur- 
round the  millions  of  eggs  matured  by  a  single  female  that  only  the  most 
trifling  fraction  ever  develop.  The  egg  of  the  oyster  being  exceedingly 
small,  and  heavier  than  water,  immediately  falls  to  the  bottom  upon 
being  set  free  by  the  parent.  Should  the  bottom  be  oozy  or  composed 
of  sediment  its  chances  of  development  are  meagre  indeed.  Irrecover- 
ably buried,  the  eggs  do  not,  in  all  probability,  have  the  chance  to  begin 
to  develop  at  all." 

8 


OYSTER'S    EGG,    IMMEDIATE- 
LY AFTER  FERTILIZATION. 


114: 


PERILS   OF  EMBRYO  LIFE. 


c. 


EGG  THREE  HOURS 
AFTER  FERTILIZA- 
TION. 


EGG  AT   A  LATER   STAGE. 


Nevertheless,  a  few  escape  and  hatch  out.     Thereupon  begins  a  series 
of  trials  for  the  life  of  each  embryo,  so  severe  that  it  has  scarcely  one 
chance  in  a  million  of  surviving. 

These  embryos,  when  first  hatched,  rise  to  the 
surface  of  the  water  and  swim  there  a  few  hours, 
after  which  they  begin  to  sink;  and  two  or  three 
days  may  elapse  before  they  are  prepared  to  become 
stationary.  This  is  the  period  of  their  greatest  peril. 
Invisible  motes,  dancing  a  whirligig  career  just  beneath 
the  surface,  the  gay  young 
oysters  are  endangered  by  the 
open  jaws  of  every  marine 
creature  larger  than  them- 
selves, and  thousands  may 
sometimes  perish  in  a  single  mouthful. 

They  run  a  constant  risk  from  the  weather, 
also.     During  his  study  of  them  on  the  Chesapeake,  Dr.  Brooks  found 
that  any  sudden  cold  wind,  or  a  fall  in  the  temperature,  such  as  occurred 
several  times  during  his  experiments  (though  made  in  mid- 
summer), would  kill  every  embryo  in  his  care.     How  wide- 
spread must  be  the  destruction  from  such  causes  in  the  open 
estuaries !     Of  the  ten  million  eggs  shed  by  one  parent,  per- 
haps half  a  dozen  may  survive  to  be  graduated  from  this 
play-day  into  the  settling-down  stage  which  begins  the  third 
period  of  an  oyster's  life.     How  inscrutable  would  be  this 
fearful  waste  of  potential  life  if  we  were  compelled  to  think 
of  it  as  foreordered  by  the  settled  determination  of  a  Crea- 
tor's fiat — a  scheme  of  reproduction  unswayed  and  unswerv- 
able  by  any  altering  circumstances,  subsequent  to  its  estab- 
lishment in  this  world  of  incessant  change ! 

Up  to  this  point  Nature  has  left  the  young  oyster  unshielded,  so  far 
as  can  be  seen.  There  is  no  protection  for  him  whatever  against  the 
liability  to  be  destroyed — if,  perchance,  he  ever  succeeds  in  getting  born  !— 
not  only  through  the  voracity  of  a  host  of  marine  animals,  from  sponges 
up  to  the  "leviathan,"  but  also  by  comparatively  slight  changes  in  the  air 
or  water.  We  can  fancy  him  quoting  the  melancholy  old  soliloquy, 

"If  so  soon  I'm  to  be  done  for, 
I  wonder  why  I  was  begun  for  !" 


EGG  IN  ITS  FI- 
NAL STAGE. 


Nature  has  seemed  to  say,  Let  them  go  it!     I  will  provide  so  many  that 


SETTLEMENT  OF  THE  EMBRYO. 


115 


if  only  one  in  a  million  lives  through,  it  will  be  enough  to  preserve  its 
race  from  extinction.  Thus,  as  it  were,  young  oysters  uncountable  are 
cast  into  the  ocean  to  be  scrambled  for  by  a  host  of  fishes  and  small  fry. 

But  when  the  minority  that  have  escaped  destruction,  .between  the 
Scylla  of  ill-tempered  water  and  the  Chary bd is  of  hungry  mouths,  are 
ready  to  affix  themselves  to  some  solid  basis,  where 
they  may  remain  stationary  through  life,  then  Nature 
begins  to  help  them.  Heretofore  she  has  trusted  in 
luck  and  the  power  of  numbers.  Now  that  the  ranks 
are  perilously  thinned,  she  gives  the  remnant  of  oys- 
ter-waifs that  persists  the  rudiments  of  what  will  be- 
come an  armor  for  their  protection,  perceivable  as  yet 
only  by  the  trained  eye  of  the  microscopist,  for  a  hun- 

FIRST  APPEARANCE  OF    dred  of  theSG  embl7os> side  bJ  side>  would  measure  no 

THE  EMBRYO.  more  than  an  inch. 

The  hours  of  the  infant  oyster's  swimming  are 

now  over.  The  embryo  sinks  slowly  to  the  bottom.  If  it  alights  upon 
ooze  or  a  slimy  surface  it  smothers,  or  dies  in  the  vain  attempt  to  get 
foothold.  If,  luckily,  it  strikes  the  cleaner  surface  of  an  old  reef  of  dead 
shells,  a  rock,  a  pebble,  or  lately  submerged 
stick,  then  the  pin-head  of  jelly  attaches  it- 
self to  a  spot  whence  it  will  rove  no  more. 

Even  before  this  time  of  becoming  sta- 
tionary, microscopists  can  detect  in  the  sim- 
ple organization  of  the  little  creature  the 
rudiments  of  the  armor  of  defence.  These 
consist  of  a  crust  of  two  pieces  lying  on  each 
side  of  the  body,  and  joined  over  the  vitals 
by  a  hinge  which  permits  a  slight  movement; 
from  them  will  develop  the  future  "  shells.'' 
Small  as  it  is,  now  that  it  has  fixed  itself 
for  all  time,  the  little  oyster  must  begin  to 
breathe,  as  its  parents  did  before  it.  "  Like 
them  its  gills  soon  grow  as  little  filaments  covered  with  cilia,  which  cause 
a  tiny  current  of  water  to  pass  in  and  out  of  the  shell.  The  reader's 
imagination  may  be  here  allowed  to  estimate  the  feeble  strength  of  that 
little  current  which  is  of  such  vital  importance  to  the  tiny  oyster,  and  the 
ease  with  which  it  may  be  stopped  by  a  very  slight  accumulation  of  dirt." 

This  liability  to  smothering  is  the  first  of  his  obstacles.     Escaping  it 
he  increases  in  size  rapidly,  but  his  ranks  are  thinned  by  crabs  and  vari- 


AN  OYSTER  ONE  YEAR  OLD,  SHOW- 
ING EMBRYONIC  SHELL  AT  THE 
APEX,  AND  LINES  OF  SUBSE- 
QUENT ADDITIONS. 


116  GROWTH   OF  THE   OYSTER'S   SHELL. 

ous  small  mollusks.  Become  large  enough  for  us  to  find  him  without 
the  help  of  lenses,  he  seems  merely  a  whitish,  horny  flake  on  the  surface 
of  his  support,  like  the  nail  on  the  little  linger  of  a  habe.  From  now 
until  the  shells  get  to  be  the  size  of  a  nickel  coin,  and  begin  to  look 
rough,  the  oysterman  calls  him  a  "blister" — an  expressive  term. 

If  the  affixture  of  the  infant  oyster  is  made  in  the  midst  of  a  cluster 
of  others,  his  only  opportunity  for  growth  is  straight  upward  by  addi- 
tions around  the  edges,  but  most  extensively  at  the  "  nib,"  or  point  of  the 
shell  opposite  the  hinge,  while  the  older  part  continually  hardens  and 
thickens  until  the  maximum  is  reached.  In  this  situation  botli  halves  of 
the  shell  will  increase  at  about  an  equal  rate  and  become  very  similar,  as 
one  sees  them  in  those  long,  narrow  forms  of  wild  oysters  from  the  sur- 
face of  reefs,  which  are  termed  by  the  fishermen  "  strap  "  or  "  stick-up," 
or  (in  the  South)  "  coon  "  oysters. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  bivalve  attaches  himself  (accidentally, 
of  course,  for,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  this  is  a  matter  in  which  the  oyster 
exercises  no  choice)  where  he  is  not  in  close  contact  with  others,  and  has 
room  to  grow  in  any  and  all  directions,  then  the  shells  become  more  and 
more  unequal.  That  one  underneath^  as  the  creature  lies  on  its  side,  is 
soon  seen  to  be  getting  greatly  the  advantage  in  size  and  strength.  Con- 
sequently, by  the  time  adult  proportions  are  reached,  the  lower  valve 
often  broadly  overlaps  the  upper  valve,  which  shuts  down  into  it  as  com- 
pletely as  the  lesser  mandible  of  a  duck  fits  into  the  concavity  of  the 
more  capacious  opposite  half  of  the  beak.  When  an  oyster  is  opened  to 
be  -eaten  raw,  it  is  this  "deep"  lower  shell  that  serves  as  a  convenient 
dish  upon  which  to  offer  it,  while  the  thinner  upper  one  is  thrown  away. 

These  heavy  shells,  it  is  needless  to  point  out,  are  a  provision  for  the 
animal's  defence.  Nature  can  no  longer  trust  to  numbers  or  minuteness 
or  invisibility  to  save  her  oysters.  If  she  cares  to  preserve  any  as 
breeders  of  future  generations,  she  must  take  better  care  of  them  than 
heretofore.  She  does  not  require  them  to  go  abroad  in  pursuit  of  food, 
but  undertakes,  by  a  simple  apparatus  for  inducing  currents  of  water,  that 
it  shall  be  brought  to  them  in  a  never-ceasing  supply,  without  other  exer- 
tion on  their  part  than  to  open  their  mouths  and  sleepily  let  the  nutri- 
tious streams  course  their  way  into  and  out  of  the  digestive  cavity  of  the 
body,  where  an  automatic  action  of  the  stomach  abstracts  the  food  and 
rejects  the  superfluous  water. 

With  this  fixed  location,  and  passive  method  of  subsistence,  oysters 
manifestly  would  have  no  occasion  or  opportunity  to  make  use  of  weap- 
ons either  for  active  offence  or  for  resistance.  Nevertheless,  Nature  does 


THE   TENDENCY   TO   SPIRAL   GROWTH.  117 

not  choose  to  leave  them  exposed  to  their  foes  in  a  fleshy  mass,  protected, 
if  at  all,  only  by  stinging  or  bitter  qualities  which  might  make  them 
noxious  to  the  taste,  such  as  are  possessed  by  the  unarmed  hydroids  and 
actinians.  The  only  alternative,  apparently,  is  to  give  them  a  stout 
armor.  This  is  the  service  which  the  heavy  shells  perform  in  oyster-life. 
That  it  is  only  partly  effectual,  a  short  acquaintance  with  the  subject  suf- 
fices to  show ;  a  fact  that  seems  to  me  to  argue  strongly  against  the  va- 
lidity of  the  view — one,  I  am  glad  to  say,  less  prevalent  now  than  formerly 
— that  all  details  of  this  kind  were  arranged  fixedly  from  the  start,  and 
must  necessarily  be  considered  the  most  perfect  that  could  be  devised. 

I  have  said  that  when  the  oyster  attaches  itself  by  the  rounded  surface 
of  one  valve  and  grows  in  a  sidewise  position,  as  it  is  very  likely  to  do  in 
regions  where  the  bottom  is  disturbed  by  constant  raking,  the  lower  valve 
soon  becomes  far  stouter  and  broader  than  the  upper ;  but  at  the  same 
time  the  general  form  is  more  symmetrical,  rounded,  and  less  inclined  to 
show  a  positive  twist  with  advancing  age  thtn  is  observable  where  oys- 
ters grow  long  and  thin  in  the  midst  of  dense  clusters.  Many  foreign 
relatives  of  this  mollusk  are  far  more  irregular  in  form  than  ours. 

Oysters  everywhere  lie  upon  the  left  side;  a  case  where  the  right  side 
is  underneath  is  very  rare  indeed.  Why  this  is  so  it  is  perhaps  impossi- 
ble to  say  with  certainty.  Probably  it  is  a  manifestation  of  a  tendency 
observed  throughout  the  whole  branch  of  mollusks,  where  the  coiled 
(univalve)  shells  all  twist  from  right  to  left,  but  where  individual  excep- 
tions occur  here  and  there,  amounting  in  one  case,  among  the  fresh-water 
physas  of  our  brooks,  to  the  reversal  of  the  custom  in  a  whole  genus — 
one,  by-the-way,  that  is  marked  by  extreme  irregularity  and  variation 
in  form  among  its  wide-spread  members. 

It  is  this  tendency,  however  it  may  have  originated,  to  grow  on  one 
side  to  the  prejudice  of  the  other,  which  seems  to  have  produced  coiled 
shells  in  the  great  variety  of  shapes  we  see ;  and  naturalists  believe  that 
they  have  all  come  from  ancestral  bivalved  mollusks  through  a  process 
of  natural  selection  acting  primarily  upon  this  supreme  tendency.  The 
operculum,  or  little  horny  plate  attached  to  the  "foot"  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  mollusks,  by  which  they  stop  up  the  circular  aperture  of  their  shells 
when  they  retire  within  them,  is  considered  the  remnant  (modified  for  a 
new  utility)  of  the  aboriginal  left  valve,  because  the  lines  of  its  accretion 
show  that  in  its  growth  it  followed  the  same  principle  of  the  coil.  In 
some  families,  as  the  Limneidce^  it  has  disappeared  altogether ;  but  I  think 
that  in  nearly  or  quite  every  case  where  an  operculum  is  no  longer  to  be 
found,  the  animal  is  minute,  arid  the  whole  shell  has  become  so  thin  and 


118  DEFENSIVE  POINTS. 

weak  that  it  no  longer  affords  any  real  protection  against  the  natural 
enemies  of  that  species,  which  are  accustomed  to  devour  the  animal,  shell 
and  all,  when  they  attack  it — so  that  they  would  nowise  be  deterred  by 
a  thicker  shell  or  the  presence  of  an  operculum. 

In  the  same  way  an  operculum  would  be  of  no  service  to  such  cling- 
ing forms  of  mollusks  as  the  limpets  or  the  abalone  (Haliotis) ;  yet,  if  an 
abalone  or  a  slipper  limpet — "  deckhead,"  as  the  fishermen  call  it — be  ex- 
amined, the  coiling  will  be  plainly  seen. 

Protected  by  its  shell,  and  anchored  immovably,  the  adult  oyster  sets 
at  defiance  the  great  majority  of  enemies  which  it  would  have  good  rea- 
son to  fear  were  it  naked.  Its  egg-stage  and  embryonic  career  were  beset 
with  perils  which  it  had  no  means  to  guard  against,  and  escaped  wholly 
by  chance.  During  its  young  life  it  was  at  risk  of  being  eaten  by  a  large 
number  of  creeping  things  and  swimming  things,  against  whose  predatory 
teeth  its  thin  new  tests  were  an  insufficient  safeguard.  But  now,  in  adult 
age,  with  feet  well  planted,  muscles  strong  to  hold  its  doors  closed  against 
intrusion,  and  a  triple-plated,  rough-coated  shield  of  limestone  over  its 
head,  the  foes  able  to  prevail  against  it  are  reduced  from  a  whole  sea  full 
to  a  small  catalogue,  the  principal  members  of  which  the  reader  will  find 
described  in  ensuing  chapters. 


XL 

SEA-STARS  AND  THEIR  MISCHIEF. 

THE  most  important  enemy  to  the  oyster,  at  any  rate  in  northerly 
waters,  is  the  tribe  of  star-fishes  —  a  group  of  animals  known  to 
everybody  who  goes  to  the  sea-shore,  and  interesting  in  many  more  ways 
than  simply  as  a  pest  to  the  oyster  planter. 

The  star-fish  passes  under  various  names  among  the  shore-folk.  In 
England  he  is  known  as  the  "  cross-fish,"  "  sun-star,"  and  "  sea-star."  In 
this  country  the  name  most  often  heard  is  "five-fingers,"  north  of  Cape 
Cod,  and  southward  of  there  "star-fish,"  "sea-star,"  or  simply  "star,"  to 
which  it  is  abbreviated  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York.  His  family  affini- 
ties are  with  the  Echinoderms — "spiny-skins." 

None  of  these  names,  however,  distinguish  between  the  various  spe- 
cies, except  in  the  case  of  the  "  basket-fish  "  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  which 
is  sufficiently  different  from  the  ordinary  five-finger  to  attract  everybody's 
attention  ;  and  the  smaller  varieties  are  often  mistaken  for  the  young  of 
a  larger  sort. 

The  common  name  of  the  animal  well  describes  its  general  form.  "As 
there  are  stars  in  the  sky,  so  are  there  stars  in  the  sea,"  remarked  old  John 
Henry  Link,  a  century  and  more  ago.  From  a  central  disk  of  small  di- 
mensions radiate  five  pointed  arms,  composed  of  a  tough  substance  unlike 
anything  else  that  I  remember  anywhere  in  the  animal  kingdom.  "  When 
it  is  warm  in  one's  hand,"  wrote  Josselyn,  that  quaintest  of  America's 
advertisers,  in  his  "New  England's  Rarities,"  "you  may  perceive  a  stiff 
motion,  turning  down  one  point  and  thrusting  up  another."  This  was  all 
right,  but  he  adopted  an  error  when  he  added,  "It  is  taken  to  be  poy- 
sonous." 

Examining  the  star-fish  more  closely,  you  perceive  that  it  has  an  upper 
and  a  lower  side,  essentially  different.  The  upper  side,  or  back,  presents 
a  rough  surface  of  a  greenish,  brownish,  or  reddish -green  hue,  which, 
when  it  is  dried,  turns  to  a  yellowish-brown.  This  is  the  leathery  mem- 
brane covering  the  skeleton  of  the  animal,  which  consists  of  small  lime- 


120  A  STAR-FISH  IN  CHAIN  ARMOR. 

stone  plates  united  together  at  their  edges  by  a  sort  of  cartilage,  so  that 
they  can  move  in  a  slight  degree;  together  they  form  the  framework, 
and  act  as  a  chain-armor  to  encircle  and  protect  all  the  soft  parts  within. 
Underneath,  on  the  lower  side  of  the  star-fish,  this  framework  terminates 
in  two  series  of  larger  plates,  which  are  braced  against  one  another  like 
rafters,  and  sustain  the  whole  structure  by  a  sort  of  arch.  This  armor  is 
sufficiently  flexible  to  allow  the  star-fish  to  bend  himself  clumsily  over  or 
around  anything  he  is  likely  to  wish  to  climb  upon  or  grasp. 

Scattered  everywhere  upon  the  upper  side  are  a  large  number  of 
blunt,  short  spines,  which  seem  to  have  no  special  arrangement,  and  are 
longest  and  thickest  at  the  edges  of  the  rays,  and  upon  the  plates  border- 
ing the  lower  side  of  each  ray.  Each  one  of  these  spines  swells  at  its 
base,  where  are  fixed  in  a  wreath  several  curious  little  appendages  called 
pedicellarice,  whose  odd  forms  and  movements  can  only  be  understood 
underneath  a  powerful  microscope,  on  account  of  their  diminutive  size. 

Each  of  these  consists  of  a  little  pedicel,  bearing  aloft  a  pair  of  dis- 
proportionately large  toothed  jaws.  The  whole  affair  looks  like  the  claw 
of  a  miniature  lobster,  and  waves  about  in  a  very  threatening  manner. 
Now  and  then  it  happens  that  some  little  particle  of  food  or  sea-weed 
will  accidentally  get  caught  by  these  valiant  guardsmen  of  the  spines 
that  tower  up  in  their  midst ;  but  this  appears  to  annoy  rather  than  grat- 
ify them,  and  their  functions  are  not  yet  explained.  They  occur  in  some 
form  or  other  in  all  echinoderms,  yet  contribute  no  service  to  the  animal 
that  we  can  detect.  Outside  of  them,  forming  a  second  circle  about  each 
spine,  is  a  set  of  water-tubes,  whose  functions  will  be  explained  presently. 
Notice  near  the  centre  of  the  disk,  on  the  back,  the  madreporic  ~body — a 
small,  smooth  protuberance  filled  with  openings,  like  a  sprinkler,  and  then 
turn  the  star-fish  over. 

Though  so  tough  and  tuberculous  above,  on  the  under  side  it  is  soft 
and  almost  white  in  tint,  except  where  the  strong  spines  along  the  edges 
of  each  ray  protect  the  soft  parts  between.  In  the  very  centre  of  the 
disk  is  the  opening  of  the  mouth.  It  contains  no' teeth,  but  is  surrounded 
by  an  elastic  tube  and  guarded  by  the  hard  edges  of  the  skeleton-plates 
which  hem  it  in.  From  this  centre  run  five  furrows,  one  down  each  of 
the  arms. 

"Throughout  all  this  branch  of  the  Radiates,"  observes  Professor 
Forbes,  "the  reigning  number  is  five.  Among  the  problems  proposed 
by  that  true-spirited  but  eccentric  philosopher,  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  is 
one, '  Why,  among  sea-stars,  Nature  chiefly  delighteth  in  five  points?'  and 
in  his  Garden  of  Cyrus  he  observes:  'By  the  same  number  (five)  doth 


THE   REIGNING  NUMBER   FIVE. 


121 


Nature  divide  the  circle  of  the  sea-star,  and  in  that  order  and  number 
disposeth  those  elegant  semicircles  or  dental  sockets  and  eggs  in  the  sea- 
hedgehog.'  Among  the  lower  and  the  typical  orders  we  find  this  num- 
ber regulating  the  number  of  parts.  Every  plate  of  the  sea-urchin  is 


STAR-FISHES   (LOWER  FIGURE    SHOWING   UNDER   SIDE   AND   AMBULACRA). 

built  up  of  pentagonal  particles.  The  skeletons  of  the  digestive,  the 
aquiferous,  and  tegumentary  systems  equally  present  the  quinary  ar- 
rangement ;  and  even  the  cartilaginous  framework  of  the  disk  of  every 
sucker  is  regulated  by  this  mystic  number." 

But  to  return  from  this  digression  :  Each  furrow,  with  the  exception 
of  a  narrow  path  down  the  middle,  is  filled  with  fleshy  tubes,  ending  in  a 


122  HOW  A   STAR-FISH  WALKS. 

disk,  which  are  so  evidently  the  star-fish's  means  of  locomotion  that  you 
at  once  call  them  feet.  This  is  true  enough  so  far  as  their  function  is 
concerned  —  for  Five -fingered  Jack  certainly  does  walk  by  means  of 
them  —  but  entirely  wrong  anatomically;  no  Eadiate  has  "feet,1'  prop- 
erly speaking.  In  order  to  see  how  the  little  animal  makes  use  of  these 
hundreds  of  walking  appendages  we  must  dissect  him. 

It  then  appears  that  through  the  sieve-like  madreporic  body,  on  the 
back  of  the  disk,  filters  a  constant  current  of  pure  sea -water.  This  is 
received  into  a  system  of  circular  canals,  which  ramify  on  each  side  of 
every  ray,  and  through  minute  openings  in  the  broad  plates  on  the  lower 
side  of  the  arms  send  out  fibres,  which,  when  swelled  full  of  water,  ap- 
pear as  the  rows  of  feet-tubes  already  mentioned.  These  feet-tubes  are 
called  ambulacrce ;  the  grooves  along  each  side  of  the  arm,  where  they 
spring,  and  where  they  are  supplied  with  water  from  the  main  canal  un- 
derneathj  the  aml>ulacral  grooves /  while  the  plates  themselves,  and  the 
whole  concave  under-surface  between  the  spiny  processes  bordering  the 
rays,  form  the  ambulacral  tract. 

Now  the  star-fish's  body  is  always  full  of  water;  besides  the  large 
stream  flowing  in  through  the  madreporic  bodjT,  a  constant  inflow  seems 
to  take  place  by  absorption  through  the  thousand  minute  water-tubes  that 
wreathe  about  each  spine,  notwithstanding  that  the  microscope  is  unable 
to  detect  any  opening  in  them.  This  insures  that  the  ambulacrse  shall 
always  be  full  of  water ;  but  the  creature  can  control  this  matter. 

When  he  wishes  to  take  a  step  he  stretches  one,  a  dozen,  or  a  score 
of  feet-tubes  forward,  and  draws  a  slight  amount  of  water  from  each, 
which  causes  a  contraction  of  their  sucker-disks,  and  gives  them  a  firm 
hold.  By  a  reverse  process  he  lets  go  with  his  other  feet,  and  by  main 
strength  drags  his  body  up  as  far  as  he  can.  This  operation,  frequently 
repeated,  would  give  a  continuous  movement  to  his  body  which  is  not  un- 
graceful, as  he  dips  down  into  a  hollow  or  bends  himself  slowly  over  some 
obstacle.  His  movements  are  very  deliberate,  and  his  progress  hardly  as 
fast  as  the  second-hand  of  a  watch.  It  is  to  the  fulness  of  this  water- 
system  that  the  animal  owes  its  plump  appearance.  Take  him  out  of  the 
sea,  and  the  water  will  pour  out  all  over  him  in  a  fierce  perspiration, 
which  soon  leaves  him  flat  and  thin  on  your  palm.  I  may  as  well  say 
here  that  any  one  can  handle  star-fishes  without  fear;  the  old  idea  that 
the}7  were  poisonous  was  a  worthless  superstition. 

In  addition  to  their  water-system  for  locomotion,  star-fishes  have  a  heart 
and  system  of  blood-vessels.  This  consists  of  two  circular  vessels,  one 
around  the  intestine,  and  one  around  the  gullet,  or  heart,  intervening  be- 


INTERNAL  ANATOMY  OF  A  STAR-FISH.  .  123 

tween  them.  "  There  are  no  distinct  respiratory  organs,  but  the  surfaces 
of  the  viscera  are  abundantly  supplied  with  cilia,  and  doubtless  subserve 
respiration;  the  sea-water  being  freely  admitted  into  the  general  body- 
cavity  by  means  of  numerous  contractile  ciliated  tubes,  which  project 
from  the  dorsal  surface  of  the  body  "  (Nicholson).  There  is  a  nervous 
system,  also,  in  this  apparently  immovable  and  insensible  denizen  of  the 
deep.  A  gangliated  cord  surrounds  the  mouth,  and  sends  filaments  out 
along  the  centre  of  each  arm  to  the  little  red  speck  discernible  at  the  tip, 
which  is  an  eye.  How  well  they  can  see  with  these  eye-specks  is  unde- 
cided, but  there  seems  no  doubt  that  they  can  perceive  obstructions  in 
their  path,  for  they  begin  to  get  ready  to  mount  them  before  actually 
striking  against  them. 

The  mouth,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  mere  circular  opening  without  teeth. 
The  stomach  is  reached  through  a  short  gullet,  and  of  itself  is  not  large, 
so  that  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  results  of  the  tremendous 
gluttony  for  which  this  fellow  is  famous  can  be  accommodated  until  we 
open  him,  and  find  that,  as  a  part  of  the  stomach,  loose  yellow  pouches  ex- 
tend far  into  each  arm,  filling  up  much  of  the  interior  of  the  rays.  When 
no  great  meal  is  to  be  eaten,  these  pouches  or  caeca  are  not  brought  into 
use;  but  when  occasion  arises  they  can  contain  a  surprising  quantity. 

On  the  floor  of  each  arm  we  have  dissected  is  seen  the  ambulacral 
ridge,  upon  either  side  of  which  are  the  vesicles  that  supply  the  foot-ten- 
tacles, which  may  be  filled  or  emptied  at  the  pleasure  of  their  owner. 
Above  these,  occupying  the  most  of  the  interior  space  towards  the  end 
of  the  ray,  and  also  appressed  between  the  caeca  and  the  upper  surface 
towards  the  centre,  are  the  grape  racemose  masses  of  the  generative 
organs. 

Few  persons,  probably,  suspect  that  in  so  low  a  grade  of  beings  the 
sexes  are  divided,  yet  this  appears  to  be  the  case  in  the  star-fishes.  Ac- 
cording to  Prof.  Alexander  Agassiz,  the  males  and  females  of  our  com- 
mon species  of  star-fish  can  readily  be  distinguished  by  their  difference  in 
coloring:  all  those  having  a  bluish  tint  being  invariably  females,  while  a 
reddish  or  reddish-brown  color  indicates  a  male.  "When  cut  open,  so  as 
to  expose  the  genital  organs,  the  difference  between  the  males  and  females 
is  still  more  striking.  The  long,  grape -like  clusters  of  reproductive 
organs,  extending  from  the  angle  of  the  arms,  on  both  sides  of  the 
ambulacral  system,  to  the  extremity  of  the  rays,  present  very  marked  dif- 
ferences in  the  two  sexes.  The  ovaries  are  bright  orange,  while  the 
spermaries  are  of  a  dull  cream  color.  At  the  time  of  spawning  .  .  .  the 
genital  organs  are  distended  to  the  utmost,  filling  completely  the  whole 


SEASON  OF  SPAWNING,  AND  EMBRYOLOGY. 


EGG  OF  THE  STAR-FISH,  AFTER 
FERTILIZATION. 


cavity  of  the  ray,  the  abactinal  system  [i.  e.,  the  sides  and  back  of  the 
rays]  being  greatly  expanded  by  the  extraordinary  development  of  these 
organs." 

The  two  species  common  on  the  New  England  coast  are  Asterias 
arenicola  and  Asterias  vulgaris,  and  though  much  alike  otherwise,  they 

have  different  times  of  spawning — the  former 
(Massachusetts  Bay  to  Florida)  throwing  out  its 
eggs  a  fortnight  or  more  earlier  in  the  summer 
than  the  latter,  whose  range  is  more  northerly 
and  hence  in  colder  waters.  Their  period  of 
spawning,  also,  is  very  short,  comprising  only 
three  or  four  days.  The  eggs  produced  by  the 
females,  as  well  as  the  spermatozoa  sent  out  by 
the  males,  find  exit  from  the  body  through  five 
very  small  holes,  in  a  series  of  large  plates  on 
the  back  at  the  angles  of  the  arms.  Such  eggs 
as  are  fortunate  enough  to  meet  with  spermato- 
zoa in  the  water,  before  being  overtaken  by  some  form  of  destruction, 
are  fertilized,  and  immediately  begin  a  very  curious 
series  of  changes  in  embryonic  growth. 

This  embryology,  which  has  been  described  by  Alex- 
ander Agassiz,  is  like  that  of  no  other  group  of  ani- 
mals, but  may  be  roughly  compared  to  the  transforma- 
tions of  a  butterfly  in  the  chrysalis.  The  larva  which 
hatches  from  the  star-fish's  egg  is  entirely  unlike  its 
parent  in  form  or  structure,  being  an  oddly -shaped, 
ragged,  transparent  little  creature,  permeated  through 

and  through  by  water-tubes.  When  perfected,  this  larva 
is  called  a  brachiolaria,  and  swims  around  for  several 
days  by  means  of  vibrating  cilia,  which  keep  it  whirling 
and  bobbing  about,  not  choosing  its  course,  nevertheless, 
by  an  exertion  of  its  will,  but  a  prey  to  all  the  chance 
breezes  and  currents  that  can  get  it  in  their  power. 

These  larvae,  says  Mr.  Agassiz,  are  to  be  found  float- 
ing in  large  numbers  at  night,  though  never  by  day,  near 
the  surface,  among  cast-off  skins  of  barnacles,  which  fur- 
nish them  with  food  during  the  time  when  they  swim 
AN  EMBRYO  STAR-     freely  about  in  company  with  multitudes  of  small  crus- 
FISHATANEAR-    tacea  annelids,  and  hydroids.     At  such  a  time  they  are 

LY  STAGE     SEEN 

EDGEWISE.  fit  food  for  shell-fish,  and  no  doubt  many  fall  into  those 


GROWTH   OF   YOUNG   STAR-FISHES. 


125 


treacherous  small  currents  that  lead  into  an  oyster's,  clarn's,  or  mussel's 
mouth.  .This  helps  to  even  up  the  account  which  the  adult  star-fishes 
are  making  by  their  daily  onslaughts  upon  these  same  rnollusks. 

The  jaunty,  free  career  of  the  brachiolaria,  however,  is  soon  over. 
Changes  begun  before  they  were  understood  now  begin  to  alarm  him. 
He  is  losing  his  shape  and  assuming  a  strange- 
ly symmetrical,  five-armed  form,  covered  witli 
soft  spines  and  tentacles.  Before  he  knows 
it,  and  without  the  loss  of  a  single  portion,  the 
brackiolaria,)  by  absorption,  has  lost  himself  in 
the  body  of  a  true  young  star-fish,  and  finds 
himself  slowly  acquiring  the  stiff  armor  and 
dignified  mien  which  marks  his  approach  to 
an  adult  condition.  He  ceases  his  gay  wan- 
derings and  sinks  to  the  bottom,  or  crawls 
upon  the  frond  of  some  floating  sea-weed. 
This  occurs  when  he  is  about  three  weeks 
old.  But  now  that  he  is  no  longer  an  em- 
bryo,  but  a  real  baby  star-fish,  his  growth  is 
very  slow.  Mr.  Agassiz  says  that  by  arrang- 
ing the  star-fishes,  big  and  little,  found  upon 

our  rocks,  into  series  according  to  size,  we  may  roughly  estimate  the 
number  of  years  required  by  them  to  attain  their  full  development, 

which  he  thus  calculates  to  be  about  fourteen. 
During  the  earlier  years  the  growth  is  more 
rapid,  of  course,  than  later.  One  young  speci- 
men, kept  in  an  aquarium  at  the  Cambridge 
museum,  doubled  its  diameter  in  five  months. 
That  they  begin  to  spawn  when  six  or  seven 
years  old,  or  hardly  half-grown,  is  ascertained ; 
but  as  to  how  long  they  may  live  after  that, 
provided  the  dangers  of  the  sea  are  escaped, 
we  have  no  information  that  I  am  aware  of. 
The  size  to  which  they  attain  varies  in 
different  species.  The  rare  British  Uraster 
glacialis,  Ag.,  has  been  seen  thirty-three  inches  in  diameter,  and  some  even 
larger  than  this  have  been  reported  from  near  Eastport,  Maine,  where 
echinoderms  abound  in  greater  number,  perhaps,  than  anywhere  else  on 
our  coast.  South  of  Cape  Cod,  however,  it  is  rare  to  see  one  measuring 
more  than  ten  inches  across,  and  the  great  majority  do  not  exceed  six. 


A  MORE  ADVANCED  EMBRYO, 
SWIMMING  BY  ROWS  OF  CILIA 
ALONG  THE  PROTUBERANCES. 


A   YOUNG   STAR-FISH. 


126  FISHERMEN'S  ERRORS  AND  SUPERSTITIONS. 

The  destructiveness  of  these  creatures  has  long  been  recognized  by 
naturalists  and  fishermen  alike.  In  Bishop  Sprat's  "History  of  the  Royal 
Society"  of  London,  we  are  told  that  many  years  ago  the  Admiralty  Court 
of  England  laid  penalties  on  those  engaged  in  the  oyster-fishery  "  who  do 
not  tread  under  their  feet,  or  throw  upon  the  shore,  a  fish  which  they  call 
five-finger,  resembling  a  spur-rowel,  because  that  fish  gets  into  the  oysters 
when  they  gap  and  sucks  them  out."  Numerous  accounts  might  be  given 
of  instances  when  great  damage  had  been  done  the  shell-fisheries,  particu- 
larly along  the  Welsh  and  Cornish  coasts,  by  star-fishes,  in  a  very  short 
time.  Oysters,  not  only,  but  clams  and  scallops  of  every  sort,  fall  a  prey 
to  some  of  the  many  spiny  raiders,  whose  size  or  habit  of  living  in  deep 
or  shallow  water  fits  them  to  attack  one  or  another  sort  of  mollusk. 

Couch,  in  his  "  Cornish  Fauna,"  notes  that  the  Uraster  rubens,  which  is 
called  clam  or  "cramp"  in  Cornwall,  and  occurs  there  in  multitudes  in 
spring,  infests  the  fishermen's  crab-pots,  to  steal  the  baits ;  and  a  Belfast 
man  reports  that  he  has  had  star-fishes  frequently  seize  his  lug-worm  bait 
and  be  brought  up  on  his  hook  while  fishing.  Mollusks,  then,  are  not 
their  only  food.  The  carrion  of  the  sea  is  eaten  by  them  with  voracity, 
and  in  this  respect  they  are  beneficial  to  us  and  the  rest  of  animal  life. 

I  do  not  propose  to  give  a  history  of  British  star-fishes,  but  before  leav- 
ing them  must  tell  one  or  two  superstitions  attached  to  them  by  seafar- 
ing men,  each  of  whom  is  so  ready  to  invest  with  supernatural  qualities 
every  strange  product  of  that  mystery  of  mysteries,  the  sea,  whose  in- 
scrutability and  might  impress  him  with  supernal  power,  and  excite  his 
wonder  more  and  more  the  longer  he  is  acquainted  with  its  majesty,  its 
moods,  and  its  inhabitants. 

Forbes  records  that  at  Scarborough  the  fishermen  call  the  big  Asterias 
aurantiaca — a  very  destructive  species — the  "butt  horn."  "The  first 
taken,"  he  says,  "  is  carefully  made  a  prisoner,  and  placed  on  a  seat  at  the 
stern  of  the  boat.  When  they  hook  a  'but'  (halibut)  they  immediately 
give  the  poor  star-fish  its  liberty,  and  commit  it  to  its  native  element ;  but 
if  their  fishery  is  unsuccessful  it  is  left  to  perish,  and  may  eventually 
enrich  the  cabinet  of  some  industrious  collector." 

In  Ireland,  it  appears,  the  folk-lore  of  this  subject  is  more  grum. 
"The  star-fishes  are  called  at  Bangor  (County  Down)  the  'Devil's  fingers' 
and  the  'Devil's  hands,'  and  the  children  have  a  superstitious  dread  of 
touching  them.  When  drying  some  in  the  little  garden  behind  my  lodg- 
ings, I  heard  some  of  them  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge  put  the  follow- 
ing queries :  '  What's  the  gentleman  doing  with  the  bad  man's  hand  ?  Is 
he  ganging  to  eat  the  bad  man's  hand,  do  ye  think?' " 


ALLEGED   POISONOUS   PROPERTIES.  127 

Not  a  superstition,  but  an  entire  error  was  the  belief,  which  I  find 
still  existing  in  the  United  States,  that  the  star-fish  will  poison  painfully, 
if  not  fatally,  the  hand  of  any  one  touching  it.  Our  oystermen  know 
better;  but  I  can  tell  them  that  the  belief  is  very  old.  Pliny,  who  lived 
during  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era,  asserted  that  star-fishes  "can 
burn  all  they  touch."  This  proves  he  took  hearsay  evidence,  which  a 
naturalist  is  never  safe  to  do,  and  did  not  handle  them  himself  to  see. 
Aldrovandus  and  Albertus,  who  wrote  a  few  centuries  later,  followed  the 
same  love  of  the  marvellous,  in  spite  of  common-sense  and  easy  proof  to 
the  contrary,  telling  their  credulous  readers  concerning  these  creatures, 
that  "  their  nature  was  so  hot  they  cooked  everything  they  meddled  with." 
Possibly  we  may  find  here  the  origin  of  the  stew,  the  roast,  the  take- 
home-a-fry-in-a-box,  which  otherwise  remains  very  obscure.  Finally,  some 
out-door  students  came  along,  picked  up  star-fishes,  found  them  harmless, 
and  freed  the  foolish  old  tomes  that  called  themselves  "  natural  histories," 
but  constantly  set  nature  aside  for  the  marvellous  and  absurd,  from  one 
more  taint  upon  the  name  of  observer. 

The  tale  did  not  wholly  lose  its  hold  upon  the  minds  of  the  ignorant, 
however ;  and  even  the  learned  have  sought,  until  lately,  to  prove  that 
some  sort  of  an  acrid  fluid  was  discharged  by  the  skin  of  the  animal. 
This  false  idea  arose,  perhaps,  from  confounding  the  star-fish  with  the 
various  Medusce,  sometimes  called  "  cross- fish es ;"  or,  possibly,  it  is  an 
outgrowth  of  the  attempt  to  account  for  the  insidious  destructiveness  of 
the  five-finger,  which  for  a  long  time  was  misunderstood. 

In  Boston,  recently,  one  of  the  oldest  oyster -dealers  and  planters 
gravely  instructed  me  in  the  manner  a  star-fish  attacks  his  victim. 

"  Crawling  round  the  bottom,"  he  explained,  "  the  star  accidently  gets 
afoul  a  bed  of  oysters.  He  don't  know  what  they  are,  mebbe,  but  there 
they  all  lie  with  their  shells  a-gapin',  after  the  nature  of  oysters.  Poking 
round  amongst  'em  he  accidently,  as  it  were,  gets  the  end  of  one  of  his 
arms  into  an  open  shell,  and  the  oyster  of  course  shuts  down  on  him. 
Now,  sir,  he  can't  get  away,  but  the  oyster  can't  live  but  a  little  while 
with  its  shell  open,  and  after  a  few  hours  he  is  dead.  Then  he  lets  up, 
and  the  star  makes  a  meal  off  him  right  there — takes  him  on  the  half-shell 
in  his  own  gravy,  as  it  were." 

This  is  the  first  and  last  time  I  ever  heard  an  American  talk  this  non- 
sense, though  many  have  expressed  an  ignorance  of  the  whole  matter, 
which  was  a  discredit  to  their  eyesight ;  but  in  reading  Prof.  Edward 
Forbes's  "British  Starfishes,"  where  he  mentions  the  cripples  so  fre- 
quently taken  among  star-fishes,  I  lately  found  the  following  paragraph : 


128  THE   STAR-FISH'S  METHOD  OF  ATTACK. 

"The  oystermen  believe  that  it  loses  its  rays  in  consequence  of  its 
oyster-banting  propensities.  That  it  insinuates  an  arm  into  the  incautious 
oyster's  gape,  with  the  intent  of  whipping  out  its  prey,  but  that  some- 
times the  apathetic  rnollusk  proves  more  than  a  match  for  its  radiate  ene- 
rny,  and  closing  on  him  holds  him  fast  by  the  proffered  finger;  then  the 
cross-fish,  preferring  amputation  and  freedom  to  captivity  and  dying  of 
an  oyster,  like  some  defeated  warrior,  finding 

'  The  struggle  vain,  he  flings  his  arms  away, 
And  safety  seeks  in  flight.' 

"  This  story  has  long  been  believed.  Link  gives  a  vignette  represent- 
ing the  mode  of  attack,  with  the  motto  '  sic  struit  insidias.' ' 

Everybody  who  knows  anything  about  it  understands  now,  of  course, 
that  all  this  is  absurd.  The  star-fish  goes  about  his  foraging  in  a  much 
more  effective  and  sensible  way.  Indeed,  he  excels  almost  any  other  ani- 
mal worth  calling  one  in  economy  of  exertion  in  eating,  since  to  secure, 
swallow,  and  digest  his  food,  when  once  he  has  forced  an  entrance  to  the 
victim's  shell,  is  combined  in  a  single  operation. 

Having  met  with  an  oyster,  scallop,  or  other  thin-shelled  mollusk — 
and  young  ones  are  preferred  because  their  armor  is  weak — the  star-fish 
folds  his  five  arms  about  it  in  a  firm  and  deadly  grasp.  Then  protruding 
the  muscular  ring  at  the  entrance  of  his  stomach  through  the  circular 
opening  in  the  centre  of  the  under  side  of  the  disk,  which  I  have  de- 
scribed, he  seizes  the  thin,  newly  grown,  posterior  edge  of  the  shell,  which 
oystermen  call  the  "nib"  or  "bill,"  and  little  by  little  breaks  it  off.  It 
has  been  surmised  that  the  gastric  juice  decomposed  the  edge  of  the  shell 
until  an  opening  was  effected  ;  or,  entering,  paralyzed  the  mollusk,  until 
he  relaxed  the  muscle  which  held  the  protecting  valves  together.  But  I 
do  not  think  either  of  these  suppositions  supported  by  fact.  The  opera- 
tion is  proceeded  with  too  rapidly  to  wait  for  the  slow  action  of  the  stom- 
ach-acids upon  the  carbonate  of  lime  in  the  shell ;  and  the  vital  parts  of 
the  mollusk  are  too  far  inward  and  sluggish  to  be  promptly  affected  by 
any  such  acids.  Moreover,  it  seems  unnecessary,  since  the  appearance  of 
every  shell  attacked  at  once  suggests  a  breaking  down,  chipping-off  move- 
ment, which  the  star-fish  might  easily  produce  by  seizing  and  suddenly 
pulling  down  with  the  suckers  nearest  the  mouth,  or  by  a  contraction  of 
the  elastic  opening  of  the  stomach. 

However  managed,  the  thin  edge  of  the  shell  is  broken,  until  an  en- 
trance is  made  which  the  occupant  has  no  way  of  barricading.  Then  the 
burglar  protrudes  into  this  entrance  the  distensible  mouth  of  his  stomach 


A   REVERSIBLE   STOMACH. 


129 


DINING  UPON  AN   OYSTER. 


until  it  can  seize  upon  the  body  of  the  mollusk.  The  consumption  of  this 
begins  at  once,  and  as  fast  as  the  poor  oyster's  or  scallop's  body  is  drawn 
within  its  folds,  the  capacious  stomach  is  pushed  farther  and  farther  in, 
until  at  last,  if  the  mollusk  be  a  large  one,  the  pouches  that  I  have  de- 
scribed as  packed  away  in  the  cavities  of  the  rays  are  also  drawn  forth, 
and  the  star-fish  has  substantially  turned  himself  wrong  side  out. 

If  dredged  at  this  stage,  as  many  examples  constantly  happen  to  be, 
and  dragged  away  from  his  half -eaten  prey,  his  stomach  will  be  seen 
hanging  out  of  the  centre  of  his  body  for  a  distance,  perhaps,  equal  to  half 
the  length  of  one  of  the  arms,  and  filled  with  the  juices  of  the  oyster  he 
has  just  devoured,  whose  body,  within  the  shell,  will  be  found  almost  as 
squarely  trimmed  as  could  have  been  done  by  scissors.  If  put  very 
gently  into  a  bucket  of  salt-water,  and  left  in  peace,  the  star-fish  will 
straighten  himself  out,  and  slowly  retract  his  extruded  abdomen,  as  he 
would  have  done,  after  his  meal  was  digested,  had  he  not  been  disturbed  ; 
but  if  the  least  violence  is  used  he  will  spurt  out  the  liquid,  and  quickly 
draw  the  distended  pouch  back  into  his  body.  As  a  rule,  however,  the 
angry  fisherman  does  not  have  patience  for  these  experiments. 

This  process  is  the  one  followed  in  the  case  of  large-sized  mollusks. 
Very  young  oysters  and  other  small  prey  are  enveloped  in  the  stomach, 
shell  and  all.  The  gastric  juice  then  kills  and  dissolves  out  the  soft  parts, 
after  which  the  hard  crust  is  thrown  away  by  the  eversion  and  with- 
drawal of  the  stomach. 

When  oysters  first  were  cultivated  along  the  American  coast,  and  this 

9 


130  REPLACEMENT  OF  LOST  PARTS. 

enemy  first  became  known,  the  oystermen  used  to  save  all  that  they 
caught  in  their  tongs  and  dredges,  and  pile  them  in  a  corner  of  their 
boats  until  evening.  Then  they  would  collect  them  into  small  packages, 
and  draw  a  cord  around  each  lot  tightly  enough  to  cut  through  it.  This 
done,  the  remnants  were  cast  overboard  and  considered  done  for.  But 
this  was  entirely  a  mistake,  as  was  presently  found  out.  Five  out  of  six 
of  these  fragments  not  only  retained  life,  but  renewed  the  lost  parts  and 
became  active  again.  Thus,  instead  of  diminishing  the  pest,  these  men 
were  directly  increasing  it,  since  they  were  making  two  or  three  new  star- 
fishes out  of  each  captive.  It  was  a  case  of  multiplication  by  division, 
which  may  be  an  invariable  paradox  in  mathematics,  but  is  by  no  means 
always  so  in  zoology. 

Star- fishes  often  lose  one  or  more  of  their  rays,  but  reproduce  them. 
Forbes  figures  one,  where  four  out  of  the  five  arms  had  been  broken  off 
in  some  way,  and  had  just  begun  to  be  replaced  by  the  little  stubs  of  new 
growth.  This  gave  the  animal,  with  one  full-sized  limb,  the  shape  of  a 
spike-headed  bludgeon.  Indeed  there  are  certain  members  of  the  family, 
found  in  all  seas,  known  as  Ophiurans,  or  snake-armed  sea-stars,  which 
are  liable  to  commit  apparent  suicide,  hurling  themselves  to  pieces  the 
instant  they  are  disturbed.  The  habit  belongs,  also,  to  a  few  larger  forms, 
but,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  is  never  practised  by  any  of  our  familiar  Amer- 
ican star-fishes,  who  seem  to  prefer  to  take  their  chances  rather  than  vol- 
untarily fling  away  their  limbs.  This  fragility  and  spitefulness  of  certain 
of  the  star-fishes  is  humorously  described  by  Forbes,  in  his  account  of  one 
large  British  seven-armed  species,  the  "  lingthorn,"  or  Luidia  fragillis- 
sima.  Having  been  cheated  out  of  a  previous  specimen  by  its  breaking 
itself  to  pieces,  Mr.  Forbes  took  with  him,  on  his  next  collecting  expedi- 
tion, a  bucket  of  cold  fresh-water,  to  which  article  star-fishes  have  a  great 
antipathy.  "As  I  expected,"  he  says,  "a  luidia  came  up  in  the  dredge — 
a  most  gorgeous  specimen.  As  it  does  not  generally  break  up  before  it  is 
raised  above  the  surface  of  the  sea,  cautiously  and  anxiously  I  sunk  my 
bucket  to  a  level  with  the  dredge's  mouth,  and  proceeded  in  the  most  gen- 
tle manner  to  introduce  luidia  to  the  purer  element.  Whether  the  cold 
air  was  too  much  for  him,  or  the  sight  of  the  bucket  too  terrific,  I  know 
not,  but  in  a  moment  he  proceeded  to  dissolve  his  corporation,  and  at 
every  mesh  of  the  dredge  his  fragments  were  seen  escaping.  In  despair 
I  grasped  at  the  largest,  and  brought  up  the  extremity  of  an  arm  with  its 
terminating  eye,  the  spinous  eyelid  of  which  opened  and  closed  with  some- 
thing exceedingly  like  a  wink  of  derision." 

Now  that  I  have  spoken  of  the  "brittle-stars,"  as  the  ophiurans  are 


NATURAL   HOME   OF   THE   STAR-FISH.  131 

well  called,  I  may  as  well  quote  Mr.  Forbes's  account  of  the  trouble  they 
give  on  the  French  and  English  coasts,  which  entitles  them  to  a  place  in 
this  essay  on  an  enemy  of  the  shell-fisheries.  He  remarks : 

"  The  common  brittle-star  often  congregates  in  great  numbers  on  the 
edges  of  scallop-banks,  and  I  have  seen  a  large  dredge  come  up  complete- 
ly filled  with  them ;  a  most  curious  sight,  for  when  the  dredge  was  emp- 
tied, these  little  creatures,  writhing  with  the  strangest  contortions,  crept 
about  in  all  directions,  often  flinging  their  arms  in  broken  pieces  around 
them,  and  their  snake-like  and  threatening  attitudes  were  by  no  means 
relished  by  the  boatmen,  who  anxiously  asked  permission  to  shovel  them 
overboard,  superstitiously  remarking  '  the  things  weren't  altogether  right.' 
Rondeletius  .  .  .  says  they  prey  on  little  shells  and  crabs.  They  constitute 
a  favorite  article  of  diet  in  the  codfish's  bill  of  fare,  and  great  numbers  of 
them  are  often  found  in  the  stomach  of  that  fish." 

Star-fishes  are  rarely  found  dwelling  upon  a  muddy  bottom,  nor  do 
they  like  clean  sand  very  well.  Upon  the  mud  it  is  difficult  for  them  to 
move  about;  while  the  open,  smooth  sand  holds  little  food,  and  is  likely 
to  be  shifted  by  a  storm  too  quickly  for  them  to  escape  burial.  Their 
home,  therefore,  is  chosen  on  rocky  coasts,  where  submerged  reefs  afford 
plenty  of  craggy  points  for  them  to  cling  to,  and  where  crannies  at  once 
serve  as  homes  for  the  animals  they  feed  upon,  and  safe  hiding-places  for 
themselves.  Beds  of  jingles  (Anomia\  deckheads  (Patella),  key -hole 
limpets  and  other  rock-loving  rnollusks,  are  strongholds  of  star-fish  life. 

The  amount  of  damage  done  to  the  oyster-fisheries  of  the  American 
coast  by  sea-stars  became  an  object  of  constant  inquiry  by  me  during  my 
investigation  into  the  condition  and  statistics  of  the  oyster  products  and 
industries  of  the  United  States  as  a  special  agent  of  the  Tenth  Census. 

This  pest  I  found  to  be  confined  to  northerly  waters.  To  the  south- 
ward of  Sandy  Hook,  at  the  utmost,  no  harm  is  reported,  since  the  star- 
fishes are  extremely  few,  and  almost  wholly  confined  to  the  mussel-beds 
in  the  inlets.  At  Eastport,  Maine,  all  attempts  to  bed  down  northern 
stock,  or  to  transplant  and  raise  any  northern  seed-oysters,  have  been  com- 
pletely frustrated  by  hordes  of  giant  star-fish,  which  ate  up  the  mollusks 
almost  as  fast  as  they  could  be  put  down.  Here,  then,  the  sea-stars  are 
responsible  for  an  entire  disuse  of  otherwise  available  privileges  for  oys- 
ter-culture. 

The  same  condition  of  affairs  exists  to  a  great  extent  on  the  rest  of  the 
coast  of  Maine,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  the  mysterious  extinction,  at  about 
the  date  of  the  advent  of  Europeans,  of  the  once  extensive  living  beds  of 
oysters  between  the  mouths  of  theKennebec  and  the  Merrirnac,  was  large- 


132  DESTRUCTIVE   INCREASE   IN  NUMBERS. 

ly  due  to  the  attacks  of  this  five -fingered  foe.  At  Portland,  however, 
where  many  southern  oysters  are  laid  down  every  year,  I  heard  little  com- 
plaint. This  immunity  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  no  young  oysters 
are  planted  here,  or  grow  naturally ;  and  also  to  the  fact  that  the  beds 
are  made  upon  muddy  flats,  in  shallower  water  than  star-fishes  enjoy. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  whole  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  except  Wellfleet, 
where  the  planters  count  sea-stars  among  the  enemies,  but  secondary  to 
the  three  or  four  species  of  mollusks  that  prey  upon  the  planted  beds. 

South  of  Cape  Cod,  however,  where  oysters  spawn  and  grow  naturally, 
and  beds  of  cultivated  oysters  are  raised  from  eggs  and  infancy,  star-fishes 
are  plentiful.  All  of  the  shores  of  Buzzard's  Bay  are  infested  with  them, 
and  from  there  to  the  western  extremity  of  Long  Island  Sound  they  do 
enormous  damage  annually  to  the  oyster  interests  —  a  damage  probably 
not  over-estimated  at  $250,000  a  year.  The  south  shore  of  Long  Island 
and  the  bay  of  New  York  are  less  afflicted.  Their  attacks  are  not  uniform 
and  continuous,  it  appears,  but  vary  with  years,  the  time  of  the  year,  and 
other  circumstances.  A  steady  increase,  however,  has  been  observed  in 
their  numbers  wherever  oyster  cultivation  has  been  carried  on  for  any 
considerable  length  of  time.  The  planters  at  Providence,  New  Haven, 
and  Nor  walk,  whose  memories  go  back  for  twenty -five  years  or  more,  re- 
late that  in  their  early  days  this  plague  was  not  regarded  as  of  any  conse- 
quence, and  that  the  star-fishes  are  steadily  increasing.  Such  a  report  is 
no  more  than  we  should  expect,  in  view  of  the  enormous  increase  of  the 
food  afforded  them  by  oyster-culture. 

There  have  occurred  times  in  the  past,  nevertheless,  as  now  happens 
at  intervals  of  a  few  years,  when  an  excessive  crowd  of  star-fishes  invaded 
the  beds.  Such  a  disastrous  visitation  was  witnessed  in  the  Providence 
River,  Rhode  Island,  about  1858.  The  star-fishes  came  in  "sudden  droves 
which  burned  up  everything."  The  planting -grounds  were  mainly  on 
Great  Bed,  about  three  miles  below  the  city  of  Providence,  and  of  all 
this  extensive  tract  only  two  acres  escaped,  owing  their  safety  to  the  fact 
that  just  before  that  they  had  been  partially  buried  under  a  layer  of 
sunken  sea-weed  and  drifted  matter.  Another  of  the  planters  had  his 
heaviest  bed  between  Field's  Point  and  Starvegoat  Island  (which  probably 
were  not  long  ago  connected),  where  the  low  tide  left  them  so  nearly  bare 
that  his  men  could  pick  up  the  star-fishes,  while  his  rivals  had  no  means 
of  combating  them  in  the  deeper  water.  In  the  general  scarcity  that  en- 
sued he  made  large  profits  from  this  rescued  bed,  and  got  a  start  to  which 
he  owes  a  large  part  of  his  present  eminence  in  the  New  England  trade. 

So"  complete  was  the  destruction  caused  by  this  visit,  that  the  State 


A  COSTLY  VISITATION. 


133 


revoked  the  leases  of  all  that  ground,  and  the  planters  left  it  wholly  for  a 
new  tract  at  Diamond  Reef,  where  the  water  was  so  fresh  that  star-fishes 
could  not  live.  This  single  inroad  upon  Providence  River  probably  cost 
the  planters  there  $150,000.  It  occurred  late  in  the  summer,  and  the  ma- 
rauders stayed  there,  picking  up  the  fragments  of  the  feast  that  remained, 
until  winter.  Then  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  and  rain,  in  conjunction  with 
an  unusually  low  tide,  chilled  and  so  completely  freshened  the  water  as  to 
kill  them  all  off.  So  it  is  related ;  and  it  is  said  to  have  been  some  years 
before  that  tract  was  re-occupied  by  planters. 


REPRODUCING   FOUR   LOST   ARMS. 


Similar  traditions  exist  elsewhere  along  this  "sound"  coast,  and  the 
planters  stand  in  constant  fear  that  the  army  of  the  enemy,  which  they 
daily  fight,  may  at  any  time  be  suddenly  reinforced  from  some  invisible 
quarter  to  an  extent  which  shall  make  any  contest  useless.  In  1878,  for 
example,  after  some  rough  and  gloomy  weather  in  the  latter  part  of  Oc- 


134  STATISTICS  OF  LOSS  TO  THE  OYSTER-PLANTERS. 

tober,  a  planter  at  Pocasset,  Massachusetts,  went  out  in  his  boat  to  look 
at  his  oysters,  which  lay  in  three  to  five  feet  of  water.  He  at  once  noticed 
that  the  star-fishes  had  made  a  raid  upon  him  under  cover  of  the  storm. 
Taking  an  eel-spear  as  a  weapon,  he  forked  up  2500  by  actual  count 
within  the  next  two  days,  and  later  gathered  500  more.  In  spite  of 
this  they  ate  up  about  300  bushels  from  his  beds  alone.  Adding  what 
his  neighbors  suffered,  he  considers  the  single  week's  loss  at  that  point  to 
have  been  about  1000  bushels,  worth  $1200. 

At  Warren,  Rhode  Island,  I  saw  once  a  pile  of  dead  star-fishes,  said 
to  amount  to  1000  bushels,  which  had  been  dredged  off  the  beds  in  the 
river  there.  A  bushel  of  living  sea-stars  contains  from  100  to  200,  ac- 
cording to  size — say,  150  on  the  average.  In  drying,  however,  the  bulk 
of  a  bushel  is  reduced  three-fourths.  Therefore  this  decaying  heap,  ready 
to  be  turned  into  manure,  represented  something  like  1000  by  150  by  4  = 
600,000  star-fishes.  Suppose  them  to  be  the  only  star-fishes  caught  in 
Warren  River,  and  to  have  eaten  only  one  oyster  each  before  their 
capture,  and  we  have  600,000  rnollusks,  or  about  3000  bushels,  destroyed. 
But  the  oystermen  say  not  one  in  twenty  five-fingers  gets  caught,  and  that 
50,000  bushels  would  come  nearer  to  each  season's  loss  of  young  and  old 
oysters.  Equally  great  heaps  can  be  seen  at  Fairhaven,  Conn. 

It  is  in  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  and  in  the  autumn  that  the  star- 
fish pest  occurs  in  its  greatest  violence  along  the  Rhode  Island  and  Con- 
necticut coasts.  Then  they,  themselves,  are  done  with  their  spawning 
and  have  renewed  their  vigor,  and  the  young  of  all  sorts  of  mollusks, 
crabs,  and  other  prey  abound  upon  the  shores  and  invite  the  five-fingers 
to  an  easy  repast.  It  is  at  this  season  that  the  sudden  appearance  of 
great  bodies  of  star-fishes  make  the  heart  of  the  planter  sink  within  him  ; 
for  he  knows  that  if  they  once  attack  a  bed  of  his,  they  march  straight 
through  it,  and  leave  as  dead  a  path  as  if  it  had  been  swept  by  a  fire.  It 
is  utterly  useless  to  struggle  against  them,  except  by  putting  on  a  large 
force  of  men  and  taking  up  all  the  oysters  on  the  bed.  On  more  than 
one  occasion  steamers  have  been  employed,  at  a  large  expense,  in  order  to 
hasten  the  work  of  dredging.  To  what  a  great  extent  this  is  now  done 
in  Long  Island  Sound,  and  the  enormous  depredations  committed  by  this 
pest  upon  the  oyster  fisheries,  can  be  learned  by  consulting  the  report 
for  1884  of  the  Connecticut  Commissioners  of  Shell  Fisheries. 

I  was  told  all  along  the  coast,  in  order  to  account  for  the  sudden  un- 
foreseen appearance  of  these  bodies  of  star-fishes  in  the  midst  of  an  oyster- 
bed,  that  they  came  rolling  in  from  the  deep  sea  in  a  compact  ball,  all 
clinging  tightly  together.  This  ball  might  be  a  foot  in  diameter,  or  as 


GREGARIOUS  AND  MIGRATORY  HABITS.  135 

big  as  a  barrel,  and  was  rolled  along  on  the  bottom  by  the  tide.  When 
it  struck  the  feeding-ground  it  went  to  pieces,  and  the  individual  mem- 
bers at  once  began  to  devour  the  oyster  next  to  them,  beginning  with  the 
tenderest.  I  discredit  the  truth  of  this  statement,  since  I  never  could 
find  an  actual  witness  of  such  a  phenomenon.  The  nearest  I  came  to  it 
was  this :  Captain  Eaton,  an  old  oysterman,  whom  I  saw  at  New  Haven, 
told  me  that  several  years  ago,  when  he  was  with  his  brother  at  Norwalk, 
they  raked  up  one  end  of  a  cylindrical  roll  of  star-fishes  clinging  tightly 
together,  which  they  hauled  into  their  boat  until  it  would  contain  no 
more,  when  they  had  to  break  the  roll  or  "string,"  as  he  called  it,  which 
was  a  foot  or  more  in  diameter.  He  did  not  mention  any  core  inside  of 
this  cylindrical  body,  which  was  solid  star-fishes  and  nothing  else. 

There  is  no  reference  in  books,  that  I  know  of,  to  anything  of  this 
nature,  except  that  Forbes  quotes  a  French  writer,  Deslonchamps,  of  1825, 
who  says  that  on  the  French  coast,  when  the  tide  was  out,  and  while  two 
or  three  inches  of  water  remained  on  the  sand,  "  he  saw  balls  of  Asterias 
rubens,  five  or  six  in  a  ball,  their  arms  interlacing,  rolling  out.  In  the 
centres  of  the  balls  were  Mactrce  stultorum  [a  kind  of  large  clam]  in 
various  states  of  destruction,  but  always  unable  to  close  the  valves,  and 
apparently  dead." 

How  much  faith  is  to  be  put  in  this  account,  credited  and  repeated 
by  many  fishermen,  and  how  much  of  it  is  pure  fable,  is  hard  to  say  from 
present  data.  In  general  it  is  known  that  our  star-fishes  live  and  breed 
among  the  rocks,  begin  to  feed  in  summer,  but  do  not  move  about  much 
when  once  they  strike  a  feeding-ground,  and  either  perish  or  retreat  to 
deep  water  when  the  cold  of  winter  approaches.  Mussels  are  preferred 
to  oysters  or  clams,  though  I  have  heard  it  asserted  that  they  will  even 
make  their  way  into  a  quahaug,  if  hard  pressed.  The  smaller,  thin-shelled 
bivalves  fall  an  easy  prey  to  them.  One  of  these  (Area  virgata?)  is  called 
the  "  blood-quahaug,"  and  the  Providence  Eiver  men  say  that  when  it  is 
present  the  star-fish  will  take  little  else. 

The  only  offsetting  value  in  this  plague,  that  I  am  aware  of,  is  its  use- 
fulness as  a  manure,  for  which  purpose  those  taken  by  the  oystermen  are 
saved.  They  are  especially  recommended  for  grape-vines.  Large  quan- 
tities are  thus  made  use  of  in  Great  Britain  and  France. 

"Anciently,"  as  I  have  read,  "the  urasters  were  used  in  medicine. 
They  were  given  internally  as  a  decoction  with  wine,  in  hysterical  dis- 
eases and  against  epilepsy.  The  physicians  of  old  times,  members  of  a 
profession  never  very  remarkable  for  logical  acumen,  applied  them  ex- 
ternally in  hernia,  from  some  fanciful  analogy  between  their  pouting 


136  PREVENTION  OF  RAVAGES  BY  STAR-FISHES. 

stomach  arid  the  appearance  of  the  rupture.  Any  medical  man  who 
would  wish  to  revive  the  practice  will  find  the  prescriptions  carefully 
gathered  together  in  Link,  who,  however,  does  not  appear  to  have  put 
much  faith  either  in  the  medical  or  gastronomical  virtues  of  star-fishes ; 
yet,  conceiving  it  necessary  to  find  some  use  for  them,  according  to  the 
manner  of  his  times,  he  tells  us  they  are  of  use  to  man,  not  because  they 
serve  as  food  to  him  themselves,  but  because  they  feed  the  fishes,  and  the 
fishes  feed  him,  adding,  'miror  hinc  et  in  providentia  divina  sapientiam.'" 

In  spite  of  his  belief,  however,  I  do  not  know  any  fishes  that  feed 
upon  the  sea-stars,  except  the  cod.  Connecticut  men  say  that  the  coot 
(Fulica  americana)  is  fond  of  young  star-fishes,  as  many  as  fifty  of  which 
have  been  found  in  the  crop  of  a  single  bird.  It  is  not  unlikely. 

The  question  following  a  knowledge  of  the  facts  which  have  been 
given  above  is,  What  can  be  done  to  prevent,  or  at  any  rate  lessen,  the 
ravages  committed  by  the  star-fishes  upon  oyster  cultivation  ?  This  is  a 
•  very  hard  question  to  answer.  The  boundless  tracts  of  the  outer  sea  har- 
bor them  beyond  any  hope  of  extermination  by  us,  and  all  operations 
must  apparently  be  confined  to  the  small  localities  occupied  by  the  oys- 
ters. Here,  again,  the  expense  involved  in  ridding  one's  property  of  the 
pests,  makes  it  a  question  whether  it  were  not  more  profitable  to  let  them 
alone.  Possibly  this  might  be  the  case  in  individual  instances;  and  prob- 
ably it  has  been  found  so,  and  acted  upon  almost  universally  up  to  the 
present.  The  result  is  a  colonization  and  increase  of  star-fishes,  which  for- 
sake the  single  localities  to  which  they  were  once  confined  and  devastate 
a  whole  neighborhood.  Every  man  now  suffers  through  his  neighbor's 
neglect  as  well  as  his  own. 

The  oysterrnen  who  own  contiguous  beds  should  combine  during  the 
summer  to  dredge  the  star-fishes  all  off  a  certain  district,  and  divide  the 
expense  or  labor  equally  among  them  all.  Such  combined  and  persistent 
work,  when  the  plague  first  appears,  will  certainly  clear  them  off;  and 
when  once  they  are  got  rid  of,  they  will  not  be  again  troublesome  until 
the  following  season,  and  then  in  less  numbers.  There  is  no  more  reason 
why  the  star-fishes  cannot  be  so  reduced  in  Long  Island  Sound  that  they 
shall  not  be  harmful  to  the  oyster-beds,  than  there  is  why  the  Canada 
thistle  cannot  be  kept  down  in  the  three  shore  counties  of  Connecticut. 
It  is  merely  a  question  of  steady  labor  intelligently  applied. 

But  I  have  discussed  this  matter  of  prevention  more  fully  in  my  report 
to  the  Tenth  Census  upon  the  Oyster  Industries  (chapter  v.,  page  231),  and 
need  not  dwell  further  upon  it  here,  where  it  is  scarcely  appropriate. 


XII. 

PERIWINKLES   AND  OTHER  OYSTER-PESTS. 

T^IIE  space  between  tide-marks,  and  the  sheltered  estuaries  all  along 
the  sea-coast,  are  infested  by  a  great  army  of  mollusks,  crabs,  and 
fishes,  whose  food  is  found  in  the  flesh  of  other  mollusks.     To  obtain 
this  they  are  provided  either  with  powerfully  muscular  mouths  or  with 
file-like  tongues  and  flexible  sucking  tubes.     To  these  banditti  the  beds 

o  o 

of  oysters  are  so  many  markets,  and,  in  pursuing  what  to  them  is  the 
proper  and  the  only  possible  conduct  of  life,  they  become  pests  to  the 
oyster  planter  only  second  to  the  star-fishes.  Like  those  hated  animals, 
however,  these  conchs,  periwinkles,  and  sea-snails,  with  their  industrious 
associates  in  mischief,  creeping  and  swimming,  present  many  points  of 
interest  and  great  suggestiveness  to  the  naturalist. 

The  most  important  of  the  carnivorous  m oil u sea,  considered  as  enemies 
of  the  oyster  and  pests  to  the  planter,  are  the  two  large  spiral  mollusks, 
Sycotypua  canaliculatus  and  Fulgur  carica*  which  along  the  coast  are 
confounded  under  the  names  " periwinkle,"  "winkle,"  "wrinkle"  (New 
England),  and  "conch"  (Southern),  with  occasionally  a  distinguishing  pre- 
fix. Various  other  large  shells  also  come  under  these  generally  applied 
names  ;  and  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  we  have,  additionally,  the  "  king  conch," 
"  queen  conch,"  and  "  horse  conch." 

The  sycotypus  is  more  common  north  of  New  York — though  it  does 
not  exist  at  all  beyond  Cape  Cod — while  along  the  coast  of  New  Jersey 
and  southward  it  is  the  f  ulgur  which  is  chargeable  with  nearly  all  the  mis- 
chief perpetrated,  since  the  other  species  is  rarely  seen.  Occasionally,  as 
Verrill  mentions,  specimens  of  both  may  be  found  crawling  on  sandy  flats 
or  in  the  tide -pools,  especially  during  the  spawning  season,  but  they 
ordinarily  live  in  deeper  water  and  on  harder  bottoms  off  shore.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  they  do  not  burrow  at  all,  though  they  are  able  to  in- 

*  Some  late  studies  in  their  anatomy  (the  figure  on  p.  141  gives  a  good  idea  of  the 
shape  of  the  living  animal  in  both)  go  to  show  that  both  these  rnollusks  are  species  of 
Fulgur,  and  more  closely  allied  than  has  hitherto  been  suspected. 


138 


SHELL  OF  FULGUR  CAR1CA. 


sert  the  posterior  part  of  the  foot  into  the  sand  sufficiently  to  afford  them  a 
strong  anchorage  against  currents.  A  very  soft  or  a  very  rocky  bottom  are 
equally  avoided  by  them. 


SHELL  OF  FULGUR  CARICA. 


The  curious  egg-cases  of  these  mollusks,  to  which  the  names  "sea- 
ruffle"  and  "  sea-necklace "  are  often  given  by  fishermen,  always  attract 
the  attention  of  visitors  to  the  sea-side,  who  find  them  cast  upon  the 


THE   MAKING  OF  A   "  SEA-NECKLACE."  139 

beaches ;  and  we  can  well  echo  the  pious  exclamation  of  the  old  historian 
of  Martha's  Vineyard :  "  The  Author  of  nature  makes  a  wonderful  and 
copious  provision  for  the  propagation  of  this  worm."  The  eggs  are  dis- 
charged in  a  series  of  disk-shaped  yellowish  capsules,  parchment-like  in 
texture,  united  by  one  edge  to  a  stout  stem  of  the  same  kind  of  material, 
often  a  foot  and  a  half  or  two  feet  in  length.  "  The  largest  capsules, 
about  an  inch  in  diameter,  are  in  the  middle,  the  size  decreasing  towards 
each  end.  On  the  outer  border  is  a  small  circular  or  oval  spot,  of  thinner 
material,  which  the  young  ones  break  through  when  they  are  ready  to 
leave  the  capsules,  each  of  which,  when  perfect,  contains  twenty  to  thirty 
or  more  eggs  or  young  shells,  according  to  the  season." 

Dr.  Elliott  Cones,  who  has  observed  Fulgur  carica  forming  its  cases 
at  Fort  Macon,  North  Carolina,  states  that  the  females  bury  themselves 
a  few  inches  below  the  surface  of  the  sand  on  the  flats  that  are  uncovered 
at  low-water,  and  remain  stationary  during  the  process.  The  string  of 
capsules  is  gradually  thrust  upward  as  fast  as  formed,  and  finally  pro- 
trudes from  the  surface  of  the  sand,  and,  when  completed,  lies  exposed 
on  its  surface.  The  string  begins  as  a  simple  shred,  two  or  three  inches 
Jong,  without  well-formed  cases;  the  first  cases  are  small  and  imperfect 
in  shape,  but  they  rapidly  increase  in  size  and  soon  become  perfect,  the 
largest  being  in  the  middle ;  the  series  ends  more  abruptly  than  it  began, 
with  a  few  smaller  and  less  perfect  capsules.  The  number  of  capsules 
varies  considerably,  but  there  are  usually  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  or 
more.  At  Fort  Macon  Dr.  Coues  observed  this  species  spawning  in  May, 
but  at  New  Haven  they  spawn  as  early  as  March  or  April.  It  is  probable 
that  the  period  of  spawning  extends  over  several  months. 

The  "necklaces"  of  both  species  present  much  the  same  appearance, 
but  a  little  experience  enables  one  to  distinguish  them.  In  those  laid  by 
fulgur  the  sides  of  the  capsules  are  nearly  smooth,  but  the  edge  is  thick- 
ened along  most  of  the  circumference,  and  crossed  by  numerous  sharp 
transverse  ridges  or  partitions,  dividing  it  into  facets.  The  capsules  be- 
longing to  sycotypus  are  larger  and  thinner,  having  a  thin,  sharp,  outer 
edge,  while  the  sides  show  radiating  ridges  or  raised  lines.  The  small 
shells  may  often  be  found  within  the  capsules,  and  thus  identify  the 
species  without  any  chance  of  mistake.  Their  exit,  when  ready,  is  made 
through  a  circular  hole,  about  one-tenth  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  in  the 
periphery  of  the  capsule.  This  happens  early  in  June  in  Long  Island 
Sound. 

Eggs  as  much  exposed  as  these  are  subject  to  numberless  accidents, 
such  as  being  drifted  ashore,  ground  to  pieces  by  storms,  and  no  doubt 


140 


FEEDING-HABITS  OF  THE  CONCH. 


eaten  by  bottom-feeding  fishes,  so  that  only  a  few  eggs  out  of  the  hun- 
dreds in  each  "necklace"  are  ever  born  —  or,  ac- 
complishing that,  are  able  to  survive  the  perils  of 
unprotected  youth  and  reach  adult  age  and  strength. 
Having  once  done  so,  however,  this  mollusk  prob- 
ably lives  to  a  very  great  age. 

An  examination  of  a  specimen  will  show  that  in 
both  species  the  muscular  part  is  large  and  strong 
and  the  mouth  powerful.     The  food  of  the  conch 
being  mainly  the  flesh  of  other  mollusks,  its  method 
of  killing  them  is  one  of  brute  strength,  since  it  is 
unprovided  with  the  silicious,  file-like  tongue  of  the 
small  "  drills."     The  conch  is  a  greater  savage  than  this. 
Seizing  upon  the  unfortunate  oyster,  unable  to  run  away, 
he  envelops  his  shell  in  the  concave  undersurface  of  his 
foot,  and,  by  just  such  a  muscular  action  as  you  would 
exert  when  grasping  an  object  in  the  palm  of  your  fist, 
crushes  the  shell  into  fragments  and  feasts  at  leisure  on 
the  flesh  thus  exposed.     Where  oysters  or  other  prey  are 


A  "SEA-NECKLACE"— EGG-CASES  OF  FULGUU. 


REPRESENTATION  OF  THE  SYCOTYPUS  CANALICULATUS. 


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2  I 


UTILIZATION  OF   THE   CONCH. 

abundant,  this  operation  is  quickly  repeated  and  vastly  destructive.  One 
planter  in  the  upper  part  of  Buzzard's  Bay,  Massachusetts,  where  this  pest 
is  very  troublesome,  told  me  that  one  winkle  was  capable  of  killing  a 
bushel  of  oysters  in  a  single  hour.  They  do  not  confine  themselves  to 
oysters  altogether,  of  course;  any  mollusks  or  other  marine  animal,  slug- 
gish and  weak  enough  to  be  caught  and  broken  up,  suffer  from  their 
predacity.  I  was  told  in  New  Jersey,  by  an  intelligent  man,  that  the 
conch  would  even  draw  the  razor-shell  out  of  his  burrow  and  devour  it. 
If  this  be  true,  no  doubt  the  soft  clam  also  falls  a  victim  to  the  same 
marauder,  but  the  quahaug  in  his  massive  shells  is  generally  safe. 

The  oyster-beds  most  subject  to  attack  and  harm  by  the  winkles  and 
conchs  are  those  planted  in  water  which  is  quite  salt,  as  is  the  practice  in 
New  England  and  in  Long  Island  Sound.  The  beds  of  the  Great  South 
Bay,  Staten  Island,  and  the  southern  Jersey  coast,  are  well  protected  by 
the  outer  beaches  from  the  sea,  and  to  these  barriers  owe  their  immunity 
from  the  fulgur,  while  the  sycotypus,  though  present  inside  the  beaches, 
seems  to  do  small  damage.  Oystermen  will  tell  you,  also,  that  beds  which 
are  disturbed  from  time  to  time  by  the  planter  will  suffer  more  harm 
than  neglected  beds,  especially  in  summer.  Where  planting  has  gone 
on  for  many  years,  these  predatory  mollusks  have  visibly  increased  in 
numbers — the  natural  result  of  abundance  of  food. 

The  shells  of  both  were  used  by  the  Indians  of  the  coast  ceremonially, 
and  as  material  for  the  making  of  white  wampum,  a  description  of  which 
will  be  found  in  another  chapter.  From  them,  also,  were  fashioned  arti- 
cles of  service  or  ornament,  such  as  maces,  hoes,  trowels,  spoons,  and 
dippers  ;  sometimes  even  yet  they  are  called  "  ladle  shells."  The  Indians 
ate  the  animals,  too,  when  hard-pressed  for  food,  and  have  been  followed 
in  this  practice  by  the  whites,  to  some  extent.  De  Voe  says  they  used 
sometimes  to  be  sent  into  Catherine  Market,  New  York,  from  Long  Isl- 
and ;  "  but,"  he  adds,  "  they  are  not  generally  relished,  being  somewhat 
strong  flavored.  They  are  mostly  used  by  the  poor  who  live  near  the 
coast."  Several  foreign  mollusks,  not  greatly  different,  are  utilized — gen- 
erally by  boiling — arid  perhaps  proper  cooking  would  make  these  conchs 
more  palatable  than  they  have  hitherto  proved.  In  Florida  allied  species 
are  occasionally  eaten  ;  and  often,  in  times  of  scarcity,  they  are  caught 
and  cooked  -to  be  fed  to  dogs. 

Perhaps  as  destructive  an  agent  as  the  conchs  and  winkles  is  the  fish 
known  as  the  drum-fish  (Poyonias  chromis.  Linn.) ;  for,  although  this 
plague  is  not  steadily  present,  when,  it  does  occur  the  devastation  is 
enormous.  "  Let  us  make  a  visit,"  says  Samuel  Lockwood,  that  brightest 


GREAT  HORDES   OF  DRUM-FISHES.  143 

of  American  writers  on  animals  and  out-of-door  matters,  "  to  one  of  these 
orderly  communities  in  Oysterdom  known  as  a  '  planting-ground.'  We 
are  seated  in  a  boat,  and,  gliding  through  the  phosphorescent  sheen,  soon 
near  the  oyster-bed.  It  is  a  moonlight  night,  about  the  close  of  summer. 
Hark !  what  singular  sound  is  that  ?  Boom !  boom  I  boom  !  Almost 
sepulchral,  and,  strange  to  say,  it  comes  up  from  beneath  the  waters. 
One  would  think  they  were  Nereids'  groans.  The  oystermeu,  whose 
capital  lies  invested  there,  hear  it  with  sad  forebodings  of  loss  which  they 
cannot  well  sustain.  It  is  one  of  a  school  of  visitors  who  come  with  ma- 
rauding purpose.  The  fishermen  call  it  the  big  drum.  This  drum-fish  is 
known  among  naturalists  by  the  name  Pogonias  chromis.  The  acknowl- 
edged beat  of  this  scamp  is  the  Gulf  Stream,  from  Cape  Cod  to  Florida ; 
and  a  terrible  fellow  is  this  pogonias,  for  he  is  recorded  as  having  at- 
tained the  great  weight  of  eighty  pounds.  One  of  twenty-five  pounds 
would  be  but  an  ordinary  affair.  Their  mouths  are  furnished  with  pave- 
ments of  hard  teeth,  a  little  rounding  on  the  top,  and  set  together  exactly 
as  are  the  cobble-stones  of  the  old  city  highways.  The  function  of  these 
dental  pavements  is  to  crunch  the  young  oysters,  which,  after  being 
crushed,  are  thus  swallowed,  shells  and  all." 

It  is  the  habit  of  these  fishes  to  go  in  great  schools.  "  On  Wednesday, 
June  5, 1804,"  reads  a  record  of  Oyster  Ponds,  Long  Island, "  one  seine 
drew  on  shore  at  this  place  at  a  single  haul  12,250  fish,  the  average  weight 
of  which  was  found  to  be  33  pounds,  making  in  the  aggregate  202  tons 
250  pounds.  This,  undoubtedly,  is  the  greatest  haul  of  this  kind  ever 
known  in  this  country.  A  hundred  witnesses  are  ready  to  attest  the 
truth  of  the  above  statement.  They  are  used  for  manure."  *  I  find  in 
Niles's  Weekly  Register,  July,  1833,  a  similar  note:  "Some  days  ago  a 
haul  was  made  in  Great  Egg  Harbor  Bay,  near  Bearsley's  Point,  Cape  May, 
at  which  218  drum-fish  were  caught,  their  entire  weight  being  from  8000 
to  9000  pounds.  This  is  said  to  be  the  largest  haul  of  that  description 
of  fish  ever  made  in  that  bay." 

Knowing  the  carnivorous  propensity  of  the  fish,  one  can  easily  imag- 
ine how  an  inroad  of  such  a  host  must  affect  an  oyster-ground.  They  do 
not  seem  to  make  any  trouble,  however,  north  of  New  York  City,  and 
rarely  along  the  south  side  of  Long  Island.  At  Staten  Island  and  Key- 
port  they  come  in  every  few  years  and  devastate  thousands  of  dollars' 
worth  of  property.  Such  a  memorable  visitation  happened  about  1850,  in 
July.  The  following  summer  the  planters  in  Prince's  Bay,  fearing  a  rep- 

*  That  is,  the  fishes — as  I  understand  it — not  the  witnesses  I 


14:4:  OTHER  CARNIVOROUS  FISHES. 

etition  of  the  onslaught,  anchored  shingles  and  pieces  of  waste  tin  on  their 
beds,  scattering  them  at  short  intervals,  in  the  hope  that  their  dancing, 
glittering  surfaces  might  act  as  "  scarecrows  "  to  frighten  the  fish  away. 
Whether  as  an  effect  of  this,  or  because  of  a  general  absence,  no  more 
drums  appeared.  In  New  York  Bay,  off  Caven  Point,  where  the  old 
"Black  Tom  Reef"  is  now  converted  into  an  island,  one  planter  of  Key- 
port  lost  his  whole  summer's  work,  material  and  labor,  in  a  single  Sep- 
tember week,  through  an  attack  by  drums.  A  City  Island  planter  report- 
ed to  me  a  loss  of  $10,000  in  one  season  a  few  years  ago;  but  the  East 
River  is  about  the  northern  limit  of  the  drums,  at  least  as  a  nuisance  to 
ovster  culture,  so  far  as  I  can  learn.  The  vexation  of  it  is,  too,  that  the 
drum  does  not  seem  to  eat  half  of  what  he  destroys ;  on  the  contrary, 
a  great  school  of  them  will  go  over  a  bed,  wantonly  crushing  hun- 
dreds of  oysters  and  dropping  them  untasted,  but  in  fragments,  on  the 
bottom. 

In  return,  the  drum  is  itself  edible,  though  of  rather  poor  quality.  It 
is  seen  in  market  between  July  arid  October.  According  to  tradition 
only  ten  species  of  fish  were  known  to  the  Dutch  when  they  discovered 
America.  When  they  caught  the  shad  they  named  it  elft  (eleventh) ;  the 
bass  twalft  (twelfth);  and  the  drum,  dertienen  (thirteenth).  Our  name, 
however,  owes  its  origin  to  the  strange,  hollow,  roaring  noise  the  fish 
makes  in  the  water,  like  the  roll  of  a  muffled  drum. 

When  drums  are  absent,  various  other  carnivorous  fishes  prey  upon 
young  oysters,  such  as  the  tautog,  sheep's-head,  toad-fish,  members  of  the 
cod  family  (when  any  of  them  get  near  a  bed,  which  at  present  is  seldom), 
and  the  skates.  Of  all  this  vermin  the  sting-ray  or  "stingaree"  of  the 
fishermen  (including  several  sorts  of  Dylastes)  is  the  chief.  He  is  always 
present  and  steadily  at  work  along  the  whole  coast.  Lying  flat  on  the 
bottom,  he  works  his  triangular  flippers  until  he  has  washed  away  the 
sand  from  about  the  oyster  he  wishes  to  seize,  if  it  is  at  all  concealed,  and 
then  crushes  it  between  his  powerful  jaws.  Even  clams  do  not  escape 
his  sagacity  in  capture  and  strength  of  mastication,  but  are  devoured  in 
great  numbers.  A  dredge  can  hardly  be  hauled  between  New  Jersey  and 
Cape  Cod  without  bringing  up  one  or  more  of  these  enemies  of  the  hard- 
working oysterman. 

A  small  but  numerous  and  persistent  enemy  of  the  oyster  is  the 
"drill"  or  "borer."  Under  this  name  is  included,  however,  a  numerous 
class  of  univalve  mollusks,  which  are  carnivorous  in  their  tastes,  and 
armed  with  a  tongue-ribbon,  so  shaped  and  so  well  supplied  with  flinty 
teeth  that  by  means  of  it  they  can  file  a  round  hole  through  an  oyster's 


HOW  THE  ''BORER"  DRILLS   HIS   HOLE. 


145 


PURPURA   LAPILLUS. 


shell.     The  mode  in  which  it  is  done  has  been  clearly  described  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Lockwood,  as  follows : 

"The  tongue  is  set  with  three  rows  of  teeth  like  a  file;  it  is,  in  fact, 
a  tongue-file,  or  dental  band,  and  is  called  by  conchologists  the  lingual  rib- 
bon. .  .  .  With  its  fleshy  disk,  called  the  foot,  it 
secures  by  adhesion  a  firm  hold  on  the  upper 
part  of  the  oyster's  shell.  The  dental  ribbon  is 
next  brought  to  a  curve,  and  one  point  of  this 
curve,  on  its  convex  side,  is  brought  to  bear  di- 
rectly on  the  desired  spot.  At  this  point  the 
teeth  are  set  perpendicularly,  and  the  curve,  rest- 
ing at  this  point  as  on  a  drill,  is  made  to  rotate 
one  circle,  or  nearly  so,  when  the  rotation  is  re- 
versed ;  and  so  the  movements  are  alternated,  until,  after  long  and  patient 

labor,  a  perforation  is  accom- 
plished. This  alternating 
movement,  I  think,  must  act 
favorably  on  the  teeth,  tend- 
ing to  keep  them  sharp.  To 
understand  the  precise  move- 
ment, let  the  reader  crook  his 
forefinger,  and,  inserting  the 

LUNATIA  HEROS,  WITH  OUTLINE  OP  EXPANDED  FOOT,     knuckle    III    tllC     palm     of    tilC 

opposite  hand,  give  to  it,  by 

the  action  of  the  wrist,  the  sort  of  rotation  described.  The  hole  thus 
effected  by  the  drill  is  hardly  so  much  as  a  line  in  diameter.  It  is  very 
neatly  countersunk.  The  hole  finished,  the  little  burglar 
inserts  its  siphon  or  sucking-tube,  and  thus  feeds  upon  the 
occupant  of  the  house." 

These  small  "snails,"  "drills,"  "borers,"  or  "snail-bores," 
as  they  are  variously  called,  belong  to  several  species  of  Lu- 
natia,  Purpura,  Anachis,  Astyris,  Tritia,  Ilyanassa,  etc. ; 
but  the  master  arid  most  destructive,  as  well  as  most  abun- 
dant of  them  all,  is  the  Urosalpinx  cinerea  of  Stimpson,  the 
common  "drill"  of  the  oyster-beds;  and  it  is  its  eggs,  laid  in  diminutive 
vase-shaped  capsules,  which  are  often  found  attached  in  groups  to  the  un- 
der surfaces  of  stones.  Several  others  of  the  small  mollusks  mentioned 
above  attach  eggs  in  a  similar  way,  but  the  drill's  capsules  have  very  short 
stalks,  or  are  almost  sessile,  and  are  compressed  with  an  ovate  outline, 
while  angular  ridges  pass  down  their  sides.  The  natural  home  of  the  drill 

10 


EGG  -  CAPSULES 
OF  THE  DRILL. 


U6 


THE   PLAGUE   OF  MUSSELS. 


ILYANASSA 
OBSOLETA. 


is  the  tide-pools  and  weedy  borders  of  rocky  shallows,  where  barnacles, 
hydroids,  anemones,  rock-loving  limpets,  and  other  associated  forms  that 
find  shelter  among  the  algae,  afford  it  abundant  food.  Though  this  is  pre- 
cisely where  the  mussels  (Mytilus  and  Modiola)  grow  till  the  rocks  are 
almost  black  with  them,  it  is  said  that  they  are  never  attacked  by  the 
drills — an  immunity  to  which,  no  doubt,  is  due  their  extreme 
abundance  in  suitable  situations. 

The  urosalpinx  sometimes  strays  of  his  own  will  away  from 
his  native  tide-rocks  to  the  oyster-beds ;  but  usually  he  is  saved 
this  trouble  by  being  taken  there  with  the  small  "seed"  oys- 
ters in  course  of  transplanting  to  new  ground.    Finding  plenty 
°f  nourishment,  he  lives  and  increases  rapidly  enough  to  be- 
come in  the  course  of  a  few  years  a  very  serious  obstacle  to  the 
planter's  success  by  killing  great  numbers  of  the  little  oysters,  for  the  old 
ones,  having  thick,  hard  shells,  are  rarely  bored. 

Once  having  attacked  an  oyster-bed,  drills  work  with  rapid- 
ity, and  seem  to  make  sudden  and  combined  forays  at  consid- 
erable intervals.  Their  disappearance  from  certain  restricted 
localities,  too,  for  a  long  time,  is  unexplained.  Eels  are  said  to 
feed  so  greedily  upon  their  eggs  as  almost  to  exterminate  them 
in  some  waters. 

Another  serious  cause  of  disquietude  to  the  American  oys- 
ter-grower, especially  in  the  Great  South  Bay  of  Long  Island,  is  the  fast- 
ening of  great  quantities  of  young  black  mussels  (Modiola 
plicatula)  on  the  oyster-beds.  This  seems  liable  to  occur  also 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  East  River,  and  at  Staten  Island. 
The  mussels  having  established  themselves  grow  rapidly,  knit 
the  oysters  together  by  their  tough  threads,  making  culling 
very  difficult,  and  take  much  of  the  food  which  otherwise 
would  help  fatten  the  more  valuable  shell-fish.  On  the  Pa- 
cific coast  Gastrochcena,  and  various  pholadiform  mollusks  are 
a  great  bane  to  the  oyster-reefs,  which  they  penetrate  by  dig- 
ging burrows  wherein  their  whole  shell  is  lodged.  Large 
numbers  of  these,  with  the  help  of  Coring- worms  and  sponges,  may  so  rid- 
dle a  reef  as  to  cause  its  entire  disintegration. 

In  Delaware  Bay  the  spawn  of  squids,  in  the  shape  of  clusters  of 
egg-cases,  appropriately  called  "  sea-grapes,"  often  gathers  so  thickly  on 
the  oysters  during  the  inaction  of  summer,  that  when  the  fall  winds  come, 
or  the  beds  are  disturbed  by  a  dredge,  great  quantities  of  oysters  rise  to 
the  surface,  buoyed  by  the  inflated  "  grapes,"  and  are  floated  away. 


TRITIA 
TRIVITATA. 


UROSALPINX 
CINEREA. 


DEPREDATIONS  BY   CRABS. 


Lastly,  certain  crabs  are  to  be  feared — chiefly  the  Callinectes  hastatus, 
our  blue,  or  soft-shelled  crab,  and  the  Cancer  irroratus.     Probably  the 


BLUE,  OR  SOFT-SHELLED  CRAB— CALLINECTES  HASTATUS. 

latter  is  the  more  hurtful  of  the  two.  I  have  heard  more  complaint  on 
this  score  at  the  western  end  of  Great  South  Bay,  Long  Island,  than  any- 
where else.  They  eat  the  small  oysters,  up  to  the  size  of  a  quarter  dollar, 
chewing  them  all  to  bits :  these  are  on  the  artificial  beds,  for  they  do 


JVo.S71. 
COMMON   SHORE   CRAB — CANCER   IRRORATUS. 


148  A  CATERER  TO  MINE  OYSTER. 

not  seem  to  trouble  the  natural  growth.  Tolled  by  broken  oysters,  when 
the  planter  is  working,  they  assemble  in  crowds.  One  man  told  me  that 
he  had  had  five  hundred  bushels  of  seed  destroyed  by  these  crabs  with- 
in a  week.  While  he  was  planting  he  conld  see  the  pests,  and  thought 
they  numbered  one  to  every  fifty  oysters.  A  similar  report  comes  from 
the  Chesapeake  Bay  region.  It  is  well  known  that  in  Europe  crabs  are 
very  destructive  to  the  planted  beds,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  many 
mysterious  losses  may  be  charged  to  these  rapacious  and  insidious  robbers. 
Aldrovandus,  and  others  among  the  naturalists  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
entertained  a  singular  notion  relative  to  the  crab  and  the  oyster.  They 
asserted  that  the  sly  crab,  in  order  to  obtain  the  flesh  of  the  oyster,  with- 
out danger  to  its  own  claws,  watched  its  opportunity  when  the  shell  was 
open  to  advance  without  noise  and  cast  a  pebble  between  the  valves, 
preventing  their  closing,  and  then  extracted  the  animal  in  safety.  "  What 
craft,1*  exclaims  the  credulous  author,  "  in  animals  that  are  destitute  of 
reason  and  voice  !"* 

*  In  respect  to  the  little  crab  which  becomes  red  in  the  cooked  oyster,  but  is  greenish- 
brown  in  life,  opinion  is  divided  as  to  whether  its  presence  is  of  any  harm  to  the  oyster 
whose  shells  give  it  shelter,  but  the  probability  is  that  it  is  not.  Its  scientific  name  is 
Pinnotheres  ostreum,  and  it  seems  to  be  a  parasite.  It  slips  in  and  out  of  the  oyster  al- 
most at  pleasure,  and  enjoys  a  portion  of  all  the  good  things  the  oyster  feeds  upon.  We 
are  told  that  it  is  the  female  alone  which  dwells  in  the  oyster,  and  that  males  are  almost 
never  seen  by  the  most  careful  searchers.  Several  allies  inhabit  various  living  mollusks, 
holothurians,  etc.  In  the  report  of  the  Maryland  Fish  Commission  for  1881,  Professor 
J.  A.  Ryder  gave  some  interesting  particulars  in  respect  to  this  little  crab,  which,  from 
its  nook  in  the  oyster's  gill- cavity,  may  be  the  means  of  indirectly  supplying  its  host  with 
a  part  of  its  food.  Professor  Ryder  found  attached  to  the  crab  a  great  number  of  com- 
pound colonies  of  the  singular  bell  animalcule,  Zoothamnium  arbusculum,  and  that  here 
and  there  numerous  minute  rod-like  vibriones  had  affixed  themselves  by  one  end.  "In 
this  way  it  happens  that  there  is  a  quadruple  commensalism  established,  since  we  have 
the  vibriones  fixed  and  probably  nourished  from  the  stalks  of  the  zoothamnium,  while 
the  latter  is  benefited  by  the  stream  of  water  drawn  in  by  the  cilia  of  the  oyster,  and  the 
last  feeds  itself  and  its  protege,  the  crab,  from  the  same  food-bearing  current.  Possibly 
the  crab  inside  the  shell  catches  and  swallows  food  which  in  its  entire  state  could  not  be 
taken  by  the  oyster ;  but  in  any  event  the  small  crumbs  which  would  fall  from  the  mouth 
and  clawrs  of  the  crab  would  be  carried  to  the  mouth  of  the  oyster,  so  that  nothing  is 
wasted.  We  must  consider  the  crab,  with  its  forest  of  bell  animalcules,  in  still  another 
light.  Since  the  animalcules  are  well  fed  in  their  strange  position,  it  is  but  natural  to 
suppose  that  they  would  propagate  rapidly.  They  multiply  in  two  ways,  viz.,  by  divid- 
ing both  lengthwise  and  crosswise,  one -half  of  the  product  being  set  free,  and  known 
swarmers.  These  cast-off  germs  of  the  animalcule  colonies  are  no  doubt  hurried  along  in 
vortex  created  by  the  cilia  of  the  gills  and  palps,  carried  to  the  mouth,  and  swallowed  as 
part  of  the  daily  allowance  of  the  food  of  the  oyster.  We  are  accordingly  obliged  to  look 
upon  the  pinnotheres  in  this  case  as  a  veritable  nursery,  upon  whose  body  animalcules 
are  continually  propagated  and  set  free  as  part  of  the  food-supply  of  the  oyster,  acting  as 
host  to  the  crab." 


SPONGES,  HYDROIDS,  AND  WORMS.  149 

In  addition  to  these  principal  foes,  many  minor  "  vermin  "  must  be 
contended  with  by  the  cultivator  of  onr  favorite  bivalve. 

The  oyster-catcher,  and  other  shore-birds,  steal  not  a  few  rnollnsks  at 
low  tide.  Barnacles,  annelids,  and  masses  of  hydroid  growth  sometimes 
form  about  the  shells,  and  intercept  the  nutriment  of  the  mollusk,  until 
it  is  nearly  or  quite  starved ;  this  is  particularly  true  in  southern  waters. 
There  are  parasitic  sponges  also,  which  attach  themselves  to  the  oyster's 
shell  and  immediately  begin  to  penetrate  its  substance.  One  of  these, 
Cliona  sulphured,  is  especially  abundant  along  the  middle  Atlantic 
coast,  and  often  pushes  its  small  burrows  quite  through  the  shell,  com- 
pelling the  oyster  to  plug  up  the  holes  by  extra  layers  of  nacre  on  the 
inside. 

Practically,  however,  sponges  are  of  not  much  harm,  while  some  fish- 
ermen assert  that  to  have  the  "  red-beard  "  or  branching  sponge,  the  gray- 
beard  (Sertularia,  argentea\  and  several  other  hydroids  and  bryozoa  which 
pass  under  the  general  name  of  "scurf"  and  "yellow  moss,"  appear  plen- 
tifully on  the  beds,  is  a  sure  sign  that  the  oysters  are  doing  well ;  should 
an  excess  of  these  occur,  however,  they  would  both  consume  and  tend 
to  keep  from  entering  its  mouth  a  part  of  the  mollusk's  food -supply, 
and  might  also  form  eddies,  acting  as  an  impediment  to  catch  drifting 
matter,  weeds,  and  the  like,  until  the  mollusks  were  partially  buried  and 
smothered.  In  Narraganset  Bay,  a  few  years  ago,  oystermen  were  great- 
ly troubled  by  multitudes  of  annelid  worms  (Serpulce),  whose  tortuous 
cylindrical  cases  are  formed  thickly  upon  every  shell,  and  serve  to  collect 
a  coating  of  cases,  sand,  mud,  etc.,  which  is  often  half  an  inch  or  more 
thick.  This  is  known  locally  as  "sanding-up"  or  "loading,"  and  under 
its  infliction  the  mollusks  deteriorate  greatly  in  quality. 

In  addition  to  the  active,  animate  enemies  of  the  oyster,  the  beds  suf- 
fer seriously,  at  certain  times,  from  the  elements,  as  has  been  pointed  out 
in  the  preceding  pages.  Great  storms  will  sweep  the  oysters  all  oif  the 
beds,  bury  them  under  shifting  sand  or  mud,  or  heap  upon  them  the 
drifting  wrack  torn  from  the  shores.  Beds  which  lie  at  the  mouths  of 
rivers  are  liable  to  be  injured  by  floods  also,  which  turn  the  water  wholly 
fresh,  or  bring  down  enormous  quantities  of  silt  and  floating  matter, 
which  settles  and  smothers  the  oysters. 

To  all  these  enemies  and  misfortunes  cultivated  oysters  are  more  lia- 
ble, and  against  them  they  are  less  defended  than  those  growing  upon 
the  natural  beds,  following  the  law  that  a  disturbance  of  nature's  equi- 
librium is  always  to  the  advantage  of  the  more  powerful  agencies  present. 


XIII. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  A  MANGROVE   KEY. 

immense  abundance  of  oysters  and  oyster-reefs  on  the  western 
-*-  coast  of  Florida  astonished  the  earliest  explorers,  and  their  histories 
of  exploration  contain  many  allusions  to  it.  Charlevoix  went  along  the 
reefs  there  two  centuries  ago,  and  writes  in  his  "Voyages:" 

"  But  this  Coast  is  the  Kingdom  of  Oysters,  as  the  great  Bank  of  New- 
foundland, and  the  Gulph  and  the  Eiver  St.  Lawrence  are  that  of  the 
Cod-Fish.  All  these  low  Lands,  which  we  coasted  as  near  as  possible,  are 
bordered  with  Trees,  to  which  are  fastened  a  prodigious  Quantity  of  little 
Oysters,  of  an  exquisite  Taste :  Others,  much  larger  and  less  dainty,  are 
found  in  the  Sea  in  such  Numbers  that  they  form  Banks  in  it,  which  we 
take  at  first  for  Rocks  on  a  Level  with  the  Surface  of  the  water." 

The  trees  to  which  Charlevoix's  men  found  oysters  attached  were  man- 
groves, and  the  extent  to  which  organic,  living  agents  are  adding  to  the 
coast-line  of  one  portion  of  the  United  States  is  remarkable,  the  more  so 
as  we  hardly  expect  results  so  large  and  substantial  from  any  means  short 
of  volcanic  or  geologic  methods.  This  truth  has  long  been  familiar  to 
every  one  in  reference  to  the  coral  islands,  but  it  is  not  so  generally  rec- 
ognized that  another  series  of  reef-islands  rivals  these  in  importance  and 
interest. 

All  along  the  western  or  Gulf  coast  of  Florida,  particularly  at  its 
southern  end,  are  great  numbers  of  bars  of  oysters,  worthless  (in  their 
natural  growth)  for  civilized  humanity,  but  beloved  of  the  raccoons  which 
nightly  come  to  eat  them,  and  hence  called  "  'coon  oysters."  Many  of 
these  reefs  go  bare  at  low  tide,  and  you  may  walk  about  on  them.  They 
consist  of  nothing  but  masses  of  oysters  so  crowded  and  compact  that  a 
solid  and  fairly  level  surface  crowns  the  whole  reef,  which  may  be  several 
hundred  yards  long  and  forty  or  fifty  yards  in  breadth.  You  may  count 
up  the  number  of  individual  oysters  when  I  tell  you  that  a  square  foot 
will  often  contain  a  hundred. 

When  the  reef  has  attained  such  a  height  that  its  crest  is  exposed  to 


HOW  AN  OYSTER  REEF  OBTAINS  SOIL.  151 

the  air  at  low  tide  longer  than  it  is  hidden  by  the  water  of  the  high  tide, 
oysters  will  cease  to  grow  at  the  centre,  while  still  flourishing  around  the 
edges.  The  dead  shells,  becoming  brittle,  are  soon  broken  to  pieces  by 
the  waves — a  work  in  which  the  breakers  are  aided  by  boring  mollusks 
and  worms,  whose  excavations  cause  large  pieces  of  the  consolidated  reef 
to  break  off  under  every  storm.  These,  tossed  about  in  the  water,  are 
soon  crushed,  pulverized,  and  thrown  upon  the  crest  of  the  reef.  The 
topmost  growth  of  closely  crowded  shells,  filled  in  with  their  wave- 
crushed  fragments,  speedily  becomes  cemented,  by  decomposition  of  some 
of  the  materials  in  the  sea-water,  into  a  compact  deposit.  Further  action 
of  the  waves  powders  this  into  shell-sand  (or,  more  properly  speaking, 
into  sheN-dust),  and  produces  the  basis  of  a  most  fertile  soil. 

To  this  end,  now  that  the  solid  reef  stands  fairly  at  or  a  little  above 
the  surface  of  the  water,  comes  speedy  and  efficient  help.  Opposing  the 
flow  of  the  currents,  the  old  oyster-bar  intercepts  and  furnishes  lodgment 
to  all  sorts  of  drifting  sea-wrack,  receives  a  growth  of  the  algae  and  grasses 
which  frequent  half-submerged  levels,  and  is  all  the  time  built  up  at  the 
crest  by  the  washing  upon  it  of  fragments  broken  from  its  edges.  It  is 
not  long,  therefore,  before  a  sort  of  shelly  soil  is  formed,  weeds  and  herb- 
age reach  it  by  means  of  favoring  winds  or  the  droppings  of  birds,  and 
finally  some  floating  mangrove  stem  or  seed  takes  root  there,  and  man- 
ages to  get  so  firm  a  foothold  that  the  storms  do  not  tear  it  away. 

This  done,  the  far-reaching  and  tangled  roots  of  the  bush  form  an 
eddy  which  deposits  sand  and  floating  stuff  until  more  mangroves  have 
room  to  root  themselves,  and  the  bar  ceases  to  be  a  "  reef :"  it  has  become 
a  "  mangrove  key." 

Now  the  mangrove  (of  which  there  are  several  kinds)  is  a  very  curious 
tree,  and  one  particularly  well  fitted  for  its  circumstances.  Its  seeds 
germinate  in  the  calyx  of  the  flower,  and,  before  they  drop,  grow  to  be 
little  brown  stems,  six  or  seven  inches  long  and  about  as  thick  as  one's 
finger,  with  small  rootlets  at  one  end.  Such  mangrove  seedlings  float 
about  all  this  coast  and  among  the  islands  in  such  quantities  that,  as 
Professor  Agassiz  put  it,  one  would  suppose  some  vessel  laden  with  Ha- 
vana cigars  had  been  wrecked  there,  and  its  precious  cargo  scattered  in 
the  ocean. 

"  In  consequence  of  their  shape,  and  the  development  of  the  root,  one 
end  is  a  little  heavier  than  the  other,  so  that  they  float  unevenly,  with  the 
loaded  end  a  little  lower  than  the  lighter  one.  When  they  are  brought 
by  the  tide  against  such  a  cap  of  soil  as  I  have  described,  they  become 
stranded  upon  it  by  their  heavier  ends;  the  rootlets  attach  themselves 


152  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  MANGROVE-TREE. 

slightly  to  the  soil ;  the  advancing  and  retreating  waves  move  the  little  plant 
up  and  down  until  it  works  a  hole  in  the  sand,  and  having  thus  established 
itself  more  firmly — steadied  itself,  as  it  were — it  now  stands  upright." 

The  mangrove  has  a  low,  branching  stein,  and  is  thus  pretty  much  all 
head;  you  cannot  see  anything  as  you  approach  but  a  compact  mass  of 
brightly  green,  thick,  shining  leaves,  trailing  to  the  ground.  A  nearer 
view  discloses  another  very  curious  feature.  From  the  main  trunk,  near 
the  ground,  extend  out  on  all  sides,  and  at  varying  height,  some  branches 
which  do  not  go  upward  and  bear  leaves,  but  turn  downward,  enter  the 
ground,  and  become  roots.  There  are  dozens  of  these  stays  surrounding 
every  stem,  and  holding  it,  like  so  many  cables,  against  the  fury  of  the 
storms  which  sometimes  hurl  both  wind  and  waves  against  the  groves. 
But  this  is  not  all.  Every  low  branch  produces  a  considerable  number  of 
thick,  leafless,  straight  twigs,  which  elongate  straight  downward  through 
air  and  water  until  they  penetrate  the  soil  and  become  rooted.  The  man- 
grove is  not  only  braced  upon  a  score  of  roots,  therefore,  but  anchored 
from  every  one  of  its  lower  and  larger  arms.  A  perfect  tangle  and  net- 
work of  these  roots  and  rooted  stems  thus  surrounds  each  tree  and  every 
islet  with  an  abatis  often  several  rods  in  width. 

Such  a  net-work  speedily  verifies  its  likeness  to  a  basket  by  catching 
outside  matter.  Along  the  solid  edges  of  the  key  itself,  and  everywhere 
in  the  neighborhood,  are  living  oysters  which  annually  send  forth  a  cloud 
of  young  to  seek  new  quarters.  The  mangrove  stems  afford  capital  rest- 
ing-places, and,  therefore,  speedily  become  incased  in  infant  oysters  which 
increase  in  size  and  number  very  rapidly.  This  suspended  kind  is  known 
as  the  "mangrove  oyster;"  but  I  do  not  see  that  they  are  anything  differ- 
ent from  the  progeny  of  the  'coon  bars.  Barnacles,  too,  in  vast  numbers, 
mussels,  bryozoa,  and  forty  forms  of  minute  water  animals  cling  to  these 
half-submerged  branches  or  flourish  under  their  shelter,  where  the  hard 
sand  and  bare  angles  of  oyster-rock  are  slowly  buried  beneath  a  coating 
of  mud  and  decayed  vegetation,  which  the  basket-work  of  mangrove  roots 
and  salt-grass  has  caught  and  confined,  so  that  henceforth  it  is  in  small 
danger  of  washing  away. 

An  especially  noteworthy  member  of  such  a  colony  is  a  marine  worm 
of  small  size,  which  forms  about  itself  a  tubular,  twisted  case  of  lime  very 
like  that  of  the  Serpula.  Along  certain  portions  of  the  coast,  south  of 
Tampa  Bay,  these  worms  are  extremely  numerous;  and  they  build  up 
their  cases  so  closely  together  that  they  join  one  another,  and  so  cover 
the  foundation  on  which  they  grow  with  vertical  calcareous  tubes  some- 
what larger  than  a  darning-needle. 


MARINE  DENIZENS  OF  THE  REEF.  153 

The  richly  impurpled  apertures  of  these  tubes  (all  of  equal  height) 
are  separated  from  one  another  by  the  fraction  of  an  inch ;  but  they  are 
cemented  at  their  partly  coiled  bases,  and  the  interstices  speedily  become 
clogged  with  sediment,  forming  a  solid  mass  of  lime.  At  high  tide,  when 
myriads  of  tentacles  can  be  seen  through  the  wonderfully  clear  Gulf  water, 
protruding  from  the  submerged  and  bristling  surface,  grappling  industri- 
ously, but  with  feathery  grace,  for  their  microscopic  food,  this  serpula 
colony  becomes  an  animated  and  beautiful  picture. 

I  suspect  that  these  worms  survive  only  one  year,  and  then  dying  leave 
their  indestructible  cases  to  serve  as  the  foundation  upon  which  their 
progeny  may  rear  a  new  tier  of  tubes.  Thus,  by  the  additions  of  succes- 
sive generations  (as  in  the  case  of  the  coral  growth,  but  through  a  differ- 
ent history)  this  worm-structure  increases  into  an  extensive  mass  of  heavy 
rock.  I  have  seen  pieces  many  yards  square  and  two  feet  or  more  thick. 

Growing  irregularly,  crannies  afford  a  haunt  for  many  species  of  mol- 
lusks  and  crustaceans  that  like  to  hide  away  in  holes;  and  the  mass  is 
further  enlarged  by  the  growth  upon  it  of  bunches  of  oysters,  and  by  the 
filling  of  the  interstices  with  sand  and  broken  shells  which  become  solidi- 
fied along  with  the  worm-tubes  through  the  production  of  a  native  cement. 
Thus  millions  of  tons  of  limestone,  most  useful  for  building  purposes,  are 
each  decade  added  to  the  Floridan  coast  by  despised  worms. 

Attracted  by  the  excellence  of  the  hiding-places  offered,  and  by  the 
abundance  of  "small  deer"  lurking  there,  many  predatory  sorts  of  aquatic 
animals  come  to  the  mangrove  roots  in  search  of  food — conchs,  whelks, 
boring  sea-snails,  crabs  of  several  species,  and  mollusk-eating  fish  like 
the  sheep's-head.  Where  there  is  teeming  life,  death  must  be  frequent. 
Thousands  of  empty  shells  and  fleshless  skeletons  sink  into  the  animated 
ooze  along  the  edge  of  the  reef,  and  rapidly  fill  it  up  until  the  water 
no  longer  covers  it,  except  at  the  highest  tide,  and  then  leaves  behind  an 
important  toll  of  drift-wood,  so  that  the  adventurous,  water-loving  man- 
groves must  push  their  roots  farther  and  farther  into  the  sea  in  order  to 
find  the  best  conditions  for  growth. 

Meanwhile  a  similar  process  has  been  raising  the  centre  of  the  island. 
Decay  of  grass  and  salt  weeds,  mangroves  and  drifted  wood,  finally  lifts 
a  surface  permanently  above  the  water.  Huge  flocks  of  water-birds  daily 
alight  upon  it  to  rest  and  feed,  and  their  droppings  increase  and  enrich 
the  soil.  Various  seeds  are  blown  or  floated  from  the  main-land  and  con- 
tribute to  its  stock  of  vegetation ;  various  land  animals — chiefly  reptilian 
—make  the  new  key  their  home,  die  and  are  buried  there.  To  the  simple 
mangrove  swamp  thus  succeeds  an  intermixture  of  oak,  pine,  and  pal- 


154 


HOW  THE  KEYS  MAY  GROW  TO  THE   MAIN-LAND. 


metto,  the  rotting  logs  of  which  gradually  make  a  wide  extent  of  solid 
and  fertile  ground. 

Discovering  this,  Indians  would  get  into  the  habit  of  landing  there  to 
open  and  feast  upon  oysters,  clams,  and  conchs,  and  from  the  debris  of 
these  feasts  would  accumulate  mounds  or  ridges  hundreds  of  yards  long 
and  many  feet  in  height.  When  the  white  man  comes  along  he  discovers 
the  largest  trees  and  most  luxuriant  undergrowth  upon  these  mounds  of 
shells.  Recognizing  the  excellence  of  the  soil,  it  is  there  he  places  his 
house  and  plants  his  farm.  The  old  oyster- bar  becomes  an 
"island"  with  a  name  on  the  maps. 

Now  the  formation  of  keys  just  in  this  way  has  long  been 
going  on,  and  clusters  of  them  abound  all  the  way  from  Appa- 
lachicola  to  Key  West.      A  group  of  mangrove  islands,  near 
such  a  coast  as  Florida's,  acts  like  the  interlacing  roots  on  a 

'  O 

single  key ;  the  currents  are  stopped,  tides  slackened,  drifted 
matter  and  sand  deposited,  and  great  shoals,  mud -flats,  or 
sand-bars  result.     Given  such  an  archipelagic  condition,  a 
straight  sand-bar,  or  outer  beach,  is  a  natural  sequence,  and 
this,  once  formed,  contributes  still  more  to  the  shoaling 
of  the  channels  inside,  until  they  eventually  become  al- 
most or  quite  obliterated,  because  many  of  the  islands 
join  together  and  finally  unite  with  the  main-land. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  this  is  wholly  the  work  of  an- 
imal life.     Not  until  the  oysters  and  their  neigh- 
bors have  really  formed  a  "  key  "  do  the  man- 
groves, with  their  train  of  aids,  take 
up  the  work ;  and  not  until  this 


AT   THE   MARGIN   OF   A   MANGROVE   KEY. 


A  KEPORT  ON  FLORIDA  CORALS. 


155 


has  long  proceeded  does  the  drifting  of  sediment  down  the  rivers,  or  the 
washing  up  of  bottom-sand  by  the  outer  waves,  increase  the  bulk  of  the 
islands  that  soon  add  their  well-prepared  areas  to  the  general  coast. 

[NOTE. — The  reader  may  find  published  in  one  of  the  memoirs  of  the  Museum  of  Com- 
parative Zoology  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  a  still  more  complete  presentation  of  this 
subject,  chiefly,  however,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  student  of  corals.  The  author 
is  Mr.  Alexander  Agassiz,  who  adds  to  his  father's  writings  on  the  subject  much  learn- 
ing of  his  own,  and  illustrates  the  whole  by  a  series  of  magnificent  pictures  of  Floridan 
corals.  The  memoir  to  which  I  refer  is  No.  1,  of  volume  viii.,  and  is  entitled,  "Report 
on  the  Florida  Reefs  by  Louis  Agassiz,  accompanied  by  Illustrations  of  Florida  Corals, 
etc."  It  is  a  quarto  of  sixty-one  pages,  with  twenty- three  plates,  and  was  published  in 
1880.] 


SHELL  MOUNDS,   FORT   GEORGE   ISLAND. 


XIV. 

THE  POMPANO-SHELLS. 

BIG  SAKASOTA  is  an  island  on  the  Gulf  coast  of  lower  Florida, 
which  began  its  history  as  an  oyster  bar  and  mangrove  key  in  the 
way  described  in  the  last  chapter. 

Walking  along  the  seaward  verge  of  this  island  one  January  morning, 
while  a  stiff  sou'-wester  was  charging  the  gleaming  beach  with  whole 
squadrons  of  "  white  horses,"  I  noticed  everywhere  tiny  holes,  like  pin- 
pricks, in  the  wet,  white  shell-sand  displayed  at  low  tide.  These  pin- 
holes,  I  knew,  must  indicate  that  a  mollusk  was  buried  under  each  one  of 
them,  but  of  what  sort  I  did  not  at  first  ascertain. 

I  also  noticed  that  the  waves  seemed  to  be  casting  up  great  numbers 
of  live  wedge-shells,  or  pompano-shells,  to  which  conchologists  give  the 
name  Donax  variabilis.  They  are  extremely  pretty  little  mollusks,  double- 
valved  like  the  mussel,  always  less  than  an  inch  long  (at  least  this  species), 
nearly  square-cut  at  one  end,  but  well  tapering  at  the  other,  and  marked 
in  bright  colors  after  the  most  exquisite  patterns.  The  ground  tint  is 
generally  white,  but  it  may  be  bluish  or  greenish  or  pink,  straw-color, 
salmon,  saffron,  or  chocolate.  The  surface  of  the  shell  is  finely  ridged  in 
delicate  lines  radiating  from  the  little  knobs  or  beaks  at  the  hinge  on  the 
"  back  "  of  the  shell  to  the  margin,  where  each  ridge  ends  in  a  minute 
tooth.  The  teeth  of  each  valve  half  shut  past  one  another  when  the  shell 
is  closed,  so  as  to  interlock  and  become  perfectly  tight  all  round,  with  the 
exception  of  a  breathing  crevice  at  the  blunt  end.  Moreover,  above  the 
ground  shade  and  delicate  sculpturing  of  the  shell  are  laid  broadening, 
ray-like  dashes  of  color  spreading  outward  from  the  beaks;  or,  if  these 
are  wanting,  ornamental  bands  run  lengthwise,  parallel  with  the  margin, 
so  as  to  be  concentric,  while  in  some  gaudy  specimens  both  styles  of 
marking  prevail. 

A  student  of  decoration  might  study  with  profit  the  striking  arrange- 
ments of  colors  which  these  markings  show.  How  do  you  like  the 
idea  of -soft  canary-color  overlaid  with  a  narrow  stripe  or  two  of  Van 


DIGGING   FOR  DEAR  LIFE.  157 

Dyke  brown?  or  white,  blending  into  pink  at  one  end,  and  touched 
with  broad  lines  of  saffron  ?  or  the  most  delicate  of  cherry  red,  fading 
away  into  pale,  brownish  straw-color  ?  or  a  dozen  tints  of  bine,  curving 
side  by  side  in  soft  flounces  over  the  rounded  space  of  half  an  inch  ?  Yet 
these,  and  a  hundred  other  lovely,  unthought-of  patterns,  were  worn  by 
these  pygmy  belles  of  the  beach,  and  no  one  of  them  all  could  complain 
that  another  had  imitated  her;  nor  did  the  plainly  dressed  seem  any  the 
less  happy. 

Attracted  at  first  by  their  handsome  jackets,  as  so  often  happens  with 
our  country  cousins  of  a  larger  growth,  I  became  interested  to  know 
their  manner  of  life.  As  each  wave  came  rushing  in,  carrying  every- 
thing before  it,  the  wedges  would  go  up  the  beach  with  the  rest  of  the 
shells,  coral,  moss,  sponges,  and  sea-wrack ;  but  when  the  surf  had  broken, 
and  the  great  law  of  weight  pulled  the  waters  back,  sucking  the  sand  and 
light  stuff  down  into  the  sea  again,  I  noticed  that  every  little  donax 
would  stand  up  on  his  sharp  end  as  quick  as  scat !  and  dig  for  dear  life 
into  the  wet,  yielding  sand  just  being  started  downward  by  the  undertow. 

Once  in  a  while  the  current  would  prove  too  much  for  him,  but  nine 
times  out  of  ten  he  would  sink  the  most  of  his  length  in  the  sand,  and 
hold  his  place  till  the  waters  had  swept  on.  It  was  very  amusing  to 
watch  a  hundred  or  two  of  these  brightly  painted  little  fellows,  all  at  one 
signal,  as  it  were,  flop  up  on  their  points  and  wriggle  themselves  with  the 
utmost  energy  deep  into  the  sand,  which  sometimes  would  drift  away 
from  around  them  so  fast  (loosened  by  their  penetration)  that  they  had 
to  go  down  three  or  four  times  their  own  length  before  making  an 
anchorage.  These  mishaps  reminded  me  of  the  frantic  exertions  I  once 
witnessed  in  New  Mexico  on  the  part  of  a  lizard,  which  was  chasing  a 
bowlder  rolling  downhill  in  a  vain  attempt  to  re-hide  under  its  shelter. 

But  I  soon  perceived  that  these  active  wedges — hundreds  though  there 
were — represented  only  the  unfortunates  that  had  been  washed  out  of 
their  burrows  by  the  heavy  surf,  and  that  their  notion  of  happiness  was 
to  be  buried  and  thus  protected  as  long  as  possible  from  the  tumult  of 
the  waves  above.  That  these  were  the  dwellers  beneath  the  thousands 
of  mysterious  "  pin-holes"  I  have  mentioned  was  at  once  suggested,  and 
quickly  proved  by  digging  them  up. 

Washing  the  earth  away,  they  all  lay  in  my  palm  tightly  closed  and 
perfectly  still.  But  I  knew  there  was  something  inside  of  their  pretty 
coats,  so  I  took  them  on  board  my  yacht,  partly  filled  a  basin  with  sand 
and  sea-water,  and  turned  my  prisoners  loose. 

There  had  elapsed   an  hour,  I  fancy,  between   taking  them   up  and 


158 


ANATOMY  OF  THE  DONAX. 


putting  them  into  my  improvised 
aquarium,  and  the  captive  donaces 
were  just  a  trifle  thirsty.  It  did  not 
take  them  ten  seconds  —  so  quick- 
witted are  they — to  learn  that  they 
were  at  home  again  ;  and  ten  seconds 
later  every  man-jack  of  them  was  do- 
ing his  very  best  to  hide.  But  this 
was  precisely  what  I  did  not  want, 
and  had  guarded  against,  by  giving 
them  too  little  sand  to  cover  them- 
selves. Soon  discovering  this  state 
of  affairs,  the  most  of  them,  grace- 
fully gave  up  trying,  and  began  to 
open  their  shells  where  they  were, 
with  what  Mr.  Darwin  would  term  a 
fine  "adaptation  to  environment." 

Now,  if  you  carefully  open  a  do- 
nax  (or  any  similar  bivalved  mollusk) 
you  find  just  underneath  the  shell  a 
thin-fringed  membrane  or  skin,  which 
clings  to  the  inside  of  the  shell ;  this 
is  the  "  mantle"  of  the  animal,  cover- 
ing him  like  an  undergarment.  Lift- 
ing this,  you  will  perceive  two  thin- 
ner and  shorter  membranes — the  gills 
of  one  side — and  underneath  them  a 
sack  which  contains  the  heart  and  di- 
gestive organs.  Below  this  sack  — 
that  is,  opposite  the  hinge — is  a  thick, 
yellowish,  tough  portion,  called  the 
"foot,"  not  because  it  is  formed  in 
the  least  like  the  foot  of  a  quadruped, 
but  because  it  serves  the  same  pur- 
pose of  locomotion.  This  "foot"  is 
the  hinder  part  of  the  animal,  and  in 
the  thin  end  of  the  wedge;  you  can- 
not speak  of  it  as  at  the  tail,  for  bi- 
valved mollusks  have  no  head !  With- 
in the  thick,  blunt,  anterior  end  of  the 


THE  DONAX  IN  HIS  HOME-BURROW.  159 

shell,  where  the  "head"  might  be  expected,  you  will  notice,  as  you  care- 
fully dissect  your  donax,  that  there  are  two  little  pointed  knobs  protrud- 
ing from  under  the  mantle. 

I  knew  what  these  were,  as  well  as  I  knew  the  use  of  the  "  foot,"  but 
I  was  astonished  to  see  how  much  there  was  of  both  of  them  when  I  had 
put  my  captives  into  the  basin.  Out  from  the  sharp  end  of  each  little 
wedge  slid  a  thin,  flexible,  three-cornered  bit  of  flesh,  like  a  knife-blade, 
with  crinkled,  waving  edges,  the  point  of  which  was  thrust  into  the  sand, 
twisted  a  trifle  to  catch  hold,  and  then  suddenly  contracted,  drawing  the 
mollnsk  down  until  the  point  of  his  shell  was  out  of  sight.  Repeating 
the  operation  far  more  rapidly  than  I  can  write  about  it,  he  made  his  way, 
foot-first,  straight  down  into  the  sand  as  fast  as  he  could  have  walked 
across  it — faster,  indeed,  for  he  cannot  walk  at  all  except  by  burying  the 
edge  of  his  top-heavy  armor  deep  enough  in  the  earth  to  maintain  an  up- 
right attitude.  It  was  entertaining  to  see  how,  in  my  crowded  aquarium,  a 
little  fellow  would  stretch  his  flexible  spade  until  it  was  longer  and  broader 
than  his  whole  shell,  and  how  he  would  feel  about  with  the  sharp,  mus- 
cular tip,  stirring  up  the  sand  until  he  struck  an  easy  place  to  enter;  or, 
with  its  aid,  would  creep  awkwardly  about  among  his  companions,  who 
always  took  his  rough  elbowing  good-naturedly. 

But  the  donax  cares  to  go  only  deep  enough  in  the  sand  to  be  well 
hidden  while  he  is  feeding.  Sinking  down  backward,  he  thrusts  up 
through  the  opened  blunt  end  of  his  shell  the  knobs  which  we  noticed 
there  in  our  dissection,  now  stretched  forth  into  two  pipes,  with  which 
he  can  reach  out  to  a  distance  almost  twice  the  length  of  his  shell. 
Through  one  of  these  pipes  he  sucks  in  a  constant  stream  of  sea-water, 
which  bears  him  his  minute  food ;  and  through  the  other  pipe  is  carried 
away  the  waste  water  after  his  stomach  has  taken  up  all  the  food  that  it 
brought. 

Very  pretty  was  it  to  lean  close  over  that  basin  of  water  and  see  those 
dozens  of  pairs  of  slender  tubes,  of  all  lengths,  from  nothing,  hardly,  to 
an  inch  and  a  half,  looking  almost  as  white  and  clear  as  if  made  of  glass 
— and  far  more  lovely  —  elongating  and  retracting,  waving  about  with 
slow,  graceful  motions,  or  gently  nodding  together  as  if  they  enjoyed 
each  other's  society.  And  the  more  closely  one  observed  the  white,  silky 
tubes,  the  more  beautiful  they  appeared.  Each  lower  tube  bears  at  its' 
end  a  crown  or  fringe  which  resembles  the  frost-leaves  on  a  window-pane 
as  much  as  anything  I  can  think  of,  or  it  is  like  a  circle  of  snowy  spruce- 
boughs  all  pointing  inward. 

This  little  fringe  is  very  easily  moved  by  means  of  the  gossamer 


160  FOOD  FOR   THE  POMPANO. 

threads  of  nerves  and  muscles  which,  if  you  have  a  magnifying  glass,  you 
can  trace  running  up  and  down  the  walls  of  the  transparent  tube ;  and  its 
use  is  to  act  as  a  screen.  You  can  prove  this  very  plainly  if  you  let  a 
donax  bury  his  shell  as  he  likes  to  do.  A  moment  later  you  will  see  a 
small  white  head  pushed  just  above  the  surface,  and  this  beautiful  feath- 
ery circlet  opening  and  shutting,  throwing  aside  the  shining  grains  of  sand 
that  float  upon  it,  or  clutching  with  eager  grasp  some  soft  morsel  and 
passing  it  within.  At  the  same  time,  close  beside  it,  protrudes  very 
slightly  from  the  sand  another  tube-head,  but  here  there  is  only  a  ragged 
edge  instead  of  lovely  fringes ;  and  out  of  this  tube  bubbles  up  a  perfect 
little  fountain  of  waste  water,  tossing  forcibly  aside  any  floating  stuff  that 
comes  opposite  its  aperture. 

One  of  the  most  striking  things  about  our  wedge-shaped  pet  is  his 
strength.  That  soft,  thin  foot  has  such  power  that  with  it  he  can  nearly 
stand  upright,  and  can  dig  swiftly  through  the  most  compact  sand.  He 
can  force  a  stream  of  water  out  of  his  hose-pipe  which  will  plough  up  the 
bottom ;  and,  by  means  of  his  small  internal  muscles,  can  hold  his  shell- 
coat  so  tightly  buttoned  that  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  can  my 
giant-fingers  pull  it  asunder. 

When  the  sun  goes  down,  or  when  the  water  gets  cold,  the  donaces, 
like  sensible  little  men,  take  in  food -tubes  and  digging  tools,  and  shut 
their  shells  for  rest. 

The  coast  fishermen  here  call  these  mollusks  pompano-shells,  because, 
they  say,  they  form  the  only  food  of  that  fish.  The  pornpano  has  the 
reputation  of  being  the  very  finest  fish  for  the  table  that  swims  in  south- 
ern waters;  and  if  this  splendid  reputation  is  well  deserved,  and  is  due 
to  his  living  upon  our  little  mollusks,  surely  the  donax  is  worth  all  the 
admiration  we  have  given  it. 


XV. 

A  PRACTICAL  VIEW  OF  DEVIL-FISHES. 

rpHE  large  class  of  mollusks  called  cuttle-fishes  or  devil-fishes  bears 
J-  very  important  relations  to  our  fisheries,  and,  consequently,  to  the 
food -supply  of  the  United  States.  Some  of  these  cuttle-fishes  attain 
huge  bulk  and  corresponding  abilities  for  destruction.  The  two  species 
of  Architeuthis,  roaming  through  the  North  Atlantic,  have  each  a  total 
length  of  from  thirty  to  fifty  feet,  and  a  weight  of  solid  flesh  amounting 
to  thousands  of  pounds. 

"  The  cuttles,"  says  Dr.  Philip  Carpenter,  "  have  very  acute  senses. 
They  have  an  approach  to  a  brain  enclosed  in  a  cartilaginous  skull.  They 
can  hear  sounds,  and  evidently  enjoy  the  taste  of  their  food.  They  have 
a  large  fleshy  tongue,  armed  with  recurved  prickles  like  that  of  the  lion. 
They  either  crawl  on  their  heads  tail  upwards,  or  swim,  tail  foremost, 
striking  with  their  arms,  or  squirt  themselves  backward  by  forcing  water 
forward  through  their  breathing  funnels. 

"  They  are  ferocious  creatures,  the  tyrants  of  the  lower  orders,  and 
do  not  scruple  to  attack  and  devour  even  fishes.  The  larger  kinds  are 
deservedly  dreaded  by  man.  Their  weapons  consist  in  their  powerful 
arms,  which  are  abundantly  furnished  with  rows  of  cup-like  suckers,  each 
of  which  fastens  on  its  prey  or  its  foe  like  a  limpet  to  the  rock.  Often 
these  are  accompanied  with  sharp  curved  teeth,  strong  enough  to  be  pre- 
served even  in  fossil  species." 

The  giant  cuttle-fishes  of  the  North  (Architeuthis),  and  the  commoner 
squids  and  calamaries  of  our  Atlantic  coast,  belong  to  the  armed  division 
of  the  order  termed  decapods.  The  three  smaller  species  ordinarily  met 
with  are  Loligo  pealei,  Loligo  pallida,  and  Ommastrephes  illecebrosa  ;  on 
the  extreme  southern  coast  they  are  replaced  by  an  octopod  (Octopus 
granulatus). 

Of  these  four,  Loligo  pealei  is  the  common  squid  from  Massachusetts 
to  South  Carolina.  When  full-grown  (which  seems  to  be  only  after  sev- 
eral years)  it  is  more  than  a  foot  in  length.  The  color,  when  living,  is 

11 


162 


AMERICAN   SQUIDS  AND  CALAMARIES. 


very  changeable,  owing  to  the  alternate  contractions  of  the  color-vesicles 
or  spots,  but  red  and  brown  predominate,  so  as  to  give  a  general  purplish- 
brown  color.  In  early  summer  this  squid  resorts  to  gravelly  and  weedv 
bottoms  to  lay  its  eggs.  They  are  contained  in  bunches  or  clusters,  some- 
times six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter,  consisting  of  hundreds  of  gelati- 
nous capsules,  each  holding  numerous  eggs.  These  clusters  are  attached 
to  some  fixed  object,  like  the  oysters  upon  planted  beds.  This  last  oc- 
currence seems  to  be  a  source  of  decided  harm  in  Delaware  Bay,  for  the 
oystermen  there  assert  that  the  larger  "seagrapes"  (as  they  call  the  egg- 
bunches)  lift  many  oysters  from  the  bottom  by  their  buoyancy,  and  float 
them  off  in  stormy  weather. 


UNDER  SURFACE  OF  THE  COMMON  SQUID— LOLIGO  PEALEI. 

North  of  Cape  Cod  the  "  squid"  is  represented  by  the  sea-arrow  or  fly- 
ing calamary  (Ommastrephes  illecebrosa\  sometimes  called  "short-finned  " 
in  contrast  to  the  u  long-finned  "  characteristic  of  the  loligos,  which  they 
resemble  in  size  and  color. 

All  of  these  squids,  big  and  little,  are  great  enemies  to  fishes,  attack- 
ing any  species  small  enough  to  be  defenceless.  The  menhaden  and 
mackerel  seem  to  suffer  chiefly,  and  Professor  Yerrill  has  described  the 
operation  in  a  graphic  way : 

"  In  attacking  the  mackerel  they  would  suddenly  dart  backward  among 
the  fish  with  the  velocity  of  an  arrow,  and  as  suddenly  turn  obliquely  to 
the  right  and  left  and  seize  a  fish,  which  was  almost  instantly  killed  by 
a  bite  in  the  back  of  the  neck  with  the  sharp  beaks.  The  bite  was  always 
made  in  the  same  place,  cutting  out  a  triangular  piece  of  flesh,  and  was 
deep  enough  to  penetrate  to  the  spinal  cord.  The  attacks  were  not  always 
successful,  and  were  sometimes  repeated  a  dozen  times  before  one  of 
these  active  and  wary  fishes  could  be  caught.  Sometimes,  after  making 
several  unsuccessful  attempts,  one  of  the  squids  would  suddenly  drop  to 


SQUIDS   IN  THE   FISHERIES.  163 

the  bottom,  and  resting  upon  the  sand  would  change  its  color  to  that  of 
sand  so  perfectly  as  to  be  almost  invisible.  In  this  way  it  would  wait 
until  the  fishes  came  back,  and  when  they  were  swimming  close  to  or 
over  the  ambuscade,  the  squid,  by  a  sudden  dart,  would  be  pretty  sure 
to  secure  a  fish.  Ordinarily,  when  swimming,  they  were  thickly  spotted 
with  red  and  brown,  but  when  darting  among  the  mackerel  they  appeared 
translucent  and  pale.  The  mackerel,  however,  seemed  to  have  learned 
that  the  shallow  water  is  the  safest  place  for  them,  and  would  hug  the 
shore  as  closely  as  possible,  so  that  in  pursuing  them  many  of  the  squids 
became  stranded  and  perished  by  hundreds,  for  when  they  once  touch 
the  shore  they  begin  to  pump  water  from  their  siphons  with  great  en- 
ergy, and  this  usually  forces  them  farther  and  farther  up  the  beach.  At 
such  times  they  often  discharge  their  ink  in  large  quantities.  The  at- 
tacks on  the  young  mackerel  were  observed  mostly  at  or  near  high-water, 
for  at  other  times  the  mackerel  were  seldom  seen,  though  the  squids  were 
seen  swimming  about  at  all  hours ;  and  these  attacks  were  observed  both 
in  the  day  and  evening.  But  it  is  probable,  from  various  observations, 
that  this  and  the  other  species  of  squids  are  partially  nocturnal  in  their 
habits,  or  at  least  are  more  active  in  the  night  than  in  the  day.  Those 
that  are  caught  in  the  pounds  and  weirs  mostly  enter  in  the  night,  and 
evidently  when  swimming  along  the  shores  in  schools.  They  are  often 
found  in  the  morning  stranded  on  the  beaches  in  immense  numbers,  es- 
pecially when  there  is  a  full  moon,  and  it  is  thought  by  many  of  the  fish- 
ermen that  this  is  because,  like  many  other  nocturnal  animals,  they  have 
the  habit  of  turning  towards  and  gazing  at  a  bright  light,  and,  since  they 
swim  backward,  they  get  ashore  on  the  beaches  opposite  the  position  of 
the  moon." 

The  loss  sustained  by  the  fisheries  through  their  voracity  is  probably 
equalized  by  the  food  which  cuttle-fishes  furnish  to  the  carnivorous  fishes 
and  various  other  denizens  of  the  deep.  For  example,  the  sperm-whale 
seems  to  rely  largely  upon  a  diet  of  squids,  sinking  to  the  bottom  where 
they  are  groping  about  to  drag  them  up,  or  nipping  off  their  long  arms 
as  they  swim  about  nearer  the  surface.  Dolphins  and  porpoises  also  prey 
upon  the  cuttles,  and  all  the  flesh-eating  fishes  pursue  and  devour  them  at 
every  opportunity,  particularly  the  cod  and  bluefish. 

Knowledge  of  this  fact  long  ago  led  to  the  squid  being  taken  by  fisher- 
men as  an  attractive  bait.  More  than  half  of  all  the  Bank  fishing  is  said 
to  be  done  with  such  bait.  When  the  shoals  of  this  mollusk  (Loligo 
squid)  approach  the  coast,  hundreds  of  vessels  are  ready  to  capture  them, 
forming  an  extensive  cuttle-fishery,  engaging  five  hundred  sail  of  French, 


164: 


THE   GIANT   SQUID   OF  NEWFOUNDLAND. 


English,  and  American  ships.  Their 
habit  of  moon-gazing,  also,  is  some- 
times taken  advantage  of  by  the 
fishermen  on  the  coast  of  Maine, 
who  capture  them  as  bait  for  cod- 
fish ;  they  go  out  on  dark  nights 
with  torches  in  their  boats,  and  by 
advancing  slowly  towards  a  beach 
drive  them  ashore.  Violent  storms 
heap  great  windrows  of  dead  squids 
on'  the  beach,  where  they  are  gather- 
ed up ;  and  they  are  also  sometimes 
taken  on  lines  adhering  to  the  bait 
set  for  fishes.  These  drives  and  ac- 
cidents happen  in  the  spring  when 
the  cuttles  are  flocking  into  shallow 
water  to  lay  their  eggs. 

Since  this  solidly-fleshed  animal 
is  so  extensively  eaten  by  other  an- 
imals it  is  not  surprising  that  men 
also  should  number  it  among  the 
edible  products  of  the  sea.  "  The 
flesh  of  the  large  cephalopodous 
animals,"  says  Simmonds,  "  was  es- 
teemed as  a  delicacy  by  the  ancients. 
Most  of  the  Eastern  natives  and 
those  of  the  Polynesian  Islands  par- 
take of  it  and  relish  it  as  food.  They 
are  exposed  for  sale,  dried,  in  the 
bazaars  or  markets  throughout  In- 
dia, and  dried  cuttle-fish  may  be 
seen  among  the  articles  of  Chinese, 
Japanese,  and  Siamese  food.  In 
Chili  the  flesh  is  also  considered  a 
delicacy,  and  in  Barbados  the  bas- 
tard cuttle-fish  or  calmar  (Loligo 
sagittate^  Lam.)  is  used  as  an  article 
of  food  by  the  lower  classes/' 

In  the  Mediterranean,  also,  par- 
ticularly near  Tunis  and  along  the 


THE   CUTTLE   AS  A  DELICACY.  165 

Portugal  coast,  the  catch  and  consumption  of  cuttles  is  large,  amounting 
to  nearly  a  million  pounds  a  year,  most  of  which  is  sold  in  Greece  after 
being  salted  and  dried  or  pickled. 

Cephalopods  are  largely  used  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  shores  of  the 
Adriatic,  being  eaten  by  all  classes  of  the  population,  though  despised 
even  by  the  poorest  in  the  north  of  Europe.  They  are  generally  cap- 
tured by  means  of  pronged  spears,  occasionally  in  nets,  and  not  unfre- 
qnently  in  the  basket-traps  set  for  other  fish.  The  common  squid  (Loligo 
vulgaris)  is  the  most  valued  of  all  as  an  article  of  food,  the  average  annual 
catch  amounting  to  no  less  than  six  hundred  tons,  valued  at  £12,000.  The 
flesh  is  fried  in  oil,  and  is  described  as  sweetish,  but  as  hard  as  leather. 
It  is  indigestible,  even  in  the  best  of  seasons;  yet,  to  judge  by  the  high 
price  it  realizes,  it  must  be  a  favorite  with  the  richer  classes. 

A  writer  in  the  London  field  recently  described  the  amusing  scenes 
witnessed  at  the  fish-market  of  an  out-of-the-way  port  of  southern  Italy, 
and  gives  a  paragraph  to  our  subject  wThich  is  worth  quoting: 

"  In  one  of  the  tubs  were  cuttle-fish,  really  beautiful  in  their  trans- 
parency, floating  gently  on  the  surface.  The  other  tubs  were  filled  with 
octopus,  lively  and  full  grown,  their  long  arms  feeling  tenderly  over  the 
sides,  some  writhing  horribly,  and  others  quietly  reposing,  their  arms 
coiled  at  their  sides,  exposing  the  dread  suckers  in  every  fold,  the  body 
in  shape  and  color  resembling  a  large,  rough  cocoanut,  with  evil,  protrud- 
ing, observant  eyes,  looking  straight  to  the  front,  at  the  same  time  vigor- 
ously discharging  water  from  the  pair  of  blow-pipes  like  a  steam-pump 
during  their  short  and  quick  respirations.  When  a  purchaser  arrives  and 
makes  a  selection,  the  vendor  adroitly  seizes  the  fish  by  the  back  of  the 
neck,  the  arms  twisting  and  extending  in  all  directions;  it  is  dropped 
into  the  scales,  and,  if  approved  of,  the  salesman  gives  it  a  twist,  almost 
turning  it  inside  out,  killing  or  disabling  it  in  a  moment.  The  octopus 
is  eaten  with  gusto  in  southern  Italy ;  but  to  see  a  mess  of  chopped  full- 
grown  octopus  served  with  tomato  sauce  is  really  trying.  When  very 
small  the  octopus  is  used  as  a  garnish  for  fish,  and  when  fried  crisp  it 
might  be  mistaken  for  macaroni.  The  octopus  lias  a  strong  beak,  like  a 
parrot,  and  is  especially  fond  of  crabs.  It  is  often  caught  by  tying  crabs 
to  a  string  and  dropping  them  on  the  clear  gravel  bottom,  where  they  are 
quickly  seized  by  the  octopus,  who  holds  on  steadily;  meanwhile  he  is 
quietly  drawn  into  the  boat." 

One  sort  of  cuttle  (Octopus  punctatus]  serves  the  double  purpose  on 
our  Pacific  coast  of  bait  for  the  fisheries  and  food  for  the  Indians.  For 
the  latter  purpose  it  is  chiefly  sought  in  Puget  Sound,  where  the  coast 


166  A  MOLLUSK  WITH  PEN,  INK,  AND  ERASER. 

tribes  hunt  and  kill  octopods,  often  large  enough  to  be  dangerous  foes  in 
a  quarrel,  by  going  to  their  haunts  in  canoes  and  spearing  them.  To 
some  small  tribes  the  octopus  affords  the  chief  supply  of  animal  food. 

There  is  no  reason  why  squid  flesh  from  the  North  Atlantic  Ocean 
should  not  become  available  as  food,  and  prove  desirable  to  those  who 
like  it.  It  would  be  both  wholesome  and  cheap,  and  a  single  architeu- 
this  would  furnish  a  meal  for  a  frigate's  crew.  In  Bermuda  the  Octopus 
granulatus  regularly  forms  a  portion  of  the  fare  of  the  fisher-families ; 
and  as  Bermudan  fish  wander  across  to  the  Florida  reefs,  no  doubt  this 
habit  prevails  there  also.  In  New  York  City  there  is  a  considerable  sale 
of  fresh  squids  to  foreign  residents,  and  this  trade  is  increasing. 

In  addition  to  its  value  as  bait,  a  source  of  oil  (our  Ommastrephes  has 
been  thus  utilized),  and  as  a  possible  food,  the  cephalopods  contribute 
two  or  three  useful  articles  to  commerce.  A  large  portion  of  them  carry 
under  the  skin  of  the  back  a  long,  flat,  calcareous  "bone"  or  plate,  which 
serves  as  a  stay  or  support  to  the  frame  in  lieu  of  a  skeleton.  In  some 
species  it  is  slender,  like  a  quill  pen.  This  bone  reduced  to  powder  forms 
a  useful  pounce,  "used  in  rewriting  over  erasures  to  prevent  blotting,  and 
in  medicine  is  an  antacid."  It  is  also  combined  into  a  dentifrice;  and  is 
fed  to  caged  birds.  For  this  latter  purpose  many  thousands  of  pounds  of 
cuttle-bone  are  brought  into  the  United  States  every  year,  furnished  chief- 
ly from  China,  but  also  collected  floating  in  the  Mediterranean.  None 
of  our  American  species  afford  a  useful  cuttle-bone,  however,  so  that  this 
import  can  scarcely  be  diminished.  The  name  calamary  is  often  applied 
to  a  cuttle-fish,  and  arises  from  the  fact  that  each  of  them  carries  in  an 
internal  gland  a  supply  of  blue -black,  ink-like  liquid,  which,  upon  the 
slightest  alarm,  he  discharges  into  the  water,  making  a  dense  cloud,  under 
cover  of  which  he  rapidly  retreats. 

This  ink,  removed  and  dried  into  little  cakes,  with  a  greater  or  less 
adulteration,  forms  the  sepia  of  painters  and  the  Indian-ink  of  draughts- 
men. At  present  it  is  brought  almost  wholly  from  Oriental  ports,  but  it 
might  probably  be  procured  on  our  coast  as  well.  Provided  with  pen 
and  ink  on  all  occasions,  these  mollusks  seem  truly  to  stand  at  the  head 
of  the  class  of  animals  they  represent,  not  wholly  because  of  their  superior 
size  and  loftier  brain,  but  also  on  the  score  of  literary  accomplishments. 

There  are  frightful  tales  abroad  of  the  ferocity  with  which  the  larger 
of  these  creatures  will  attack  man,  and  they  are  greatly  dreaded  by  the 
shell-divers  of  the  South  Seas;  but  the  truth  is,  the  cuttle-fish  is  timid, 
and  will  hide  or  run  away  whenever  he  can  from  anything  so  large  and 
strange  as  a  man — that  is,  any  cuttles  smaller  than  the  giants  of  New- 


THE   CUTTLE-FISH  NOT   COMBATIVE, 


167 


foundland.  A  diver  who  touched  a  large  octopus  would  instinctively  be 
seized,  of  course,  since  the  creature  would  know  no  different  course  of 
action — but  voluntary  attack  is  not  credited  by  those  who  know  most 
about  the  habits  of  the  animal. 


THE  ARGONAUT  CUTTLE,  OR  PAPER  NAUTILUS. 


XVI. 

ELK  ANTLERS. 

WHEN  one  learns  for  the  first  time  that  the  enormous,  spreading 
antlers  worn  by  the  males  of  the  deer  tribe  are  the  product  of  a 
single  season's  growth,  and  are  thrown  away  to  be  renewed  every  twelve- 
month, it  seems  wholly  incredible;  but  it  is  easy  to  explain,  so  that  any 
one  may  readily  understand  how  it  is  possible.  Let  us  take,  as  an  exam- 
ple, the  broad  head-gear  of  the  elk,  or  wapiti  of  our  north-west.  He  has 
the  greatest  antlers  of  any  of  our  deer,  except,  perhaps,  the  moose,  whose 
horns  may  sometimes  be  heavier. 

The  elk  stands  as  high  as  a  medium-sized  horse,  to  which  it  bears  a 
general  resemblance,  but  it  has  the  shapely  head,  prolonged,  naked  nose, 
upright  neck,  trim  shoulders,  straight,  slender  body,  muscular  hams,  and 
short  tail  characteristic  of  the  deer  tribe.  The  ears  are  rather  short, 
pointed  and  mobile ;  the  eyes  deep  blue.  The  hair  in  summer  is  a  rich 
brown  color,  darkest  on  the  neck,  where  it  is  almost  heavy  enough  to  be 
called  a  mane,  and  yellowish  brown  or  nearly  white  on  the  throat,  breast, 
and  inside  of  the  legs.  As  winter  approaches  the  brown  hair  is  shed,  and 
a  denser  growth  appears,  which  hunters  call  his  "  blue  coat." 

Elks  are  born  in  May  and  early  June  in  some  dense  grove  beside  a 
mountain  stream,  where  the  mother  or  cow-elk  has  hidden  herself  away 
from  the  little  herd  of  her  companions.  Going  one  day  through  an  aspen 
grove  in  the  Seminole  range,  a  spur  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  our  party 
roused  an  elk,  which  dashed  away  just  in  time  to  save  its  life  from  our 
bullets  and  send  us  to  bed  that  night  without  fresh  venison.  We  camped 
close  by,  and  after  tea,  while  walking  about  the  grove,  stumbled  upon 
a  little  calf — baby  elks  are  not  called  "fawns" — and  carried  it  to  our  tire, 
squealing  lustily,  where  we  tied  it  to  a  tent-pin.  This  calf's  hair  was  of  a 
bright  chestnut-brown  color;  its  sides  were  marked  with  irregular  lines  of 
round  white  spots,  which  would  disappear  at  the  first  shedding  of  hair. 

Probably  every  copse  along  the  foot  of  these  mountains  was  the  scene 
of  a  similar  retirement  of  mother  and  little  one.  When  a  fortnight  old 


A  WAPITI  CALF. 


169 


^'J^fy^yfa, . 


A  WAPITI  "BULL"  AND  "CALF." 

(Showing  the  bulk  of  the  antlers  as  compared  with  the  size  of  the  head.) 

the  calves  are  able  to  travel,  and  then,  with  their  mothers,  join  little  com- 
panies of  cows  and  yearlings  which  roam  about  the  plains  and  hills  where 
pasturage  is  good  and  insects  are  not  too  troublesome.  Until  able  to  care 
for  themselves  (so  say  the  hunters)  the  calves  emit  no  scent,  and  it  is 
therefore  only  by  chance  that  a  cat  or  panther  could  find  or  destroy  one. 
They  grow  rapidly  to  be  strong  and  fleet. 

During  all  this  time  of  the  babyhood  of  the  youngsters  their  fathers, 
the  "  bull  elks,"  have  also  isolated  themselves,  and,  in  some  quiet  spot  in 


170  CONSTRUCTION   OF  THE   HORNS. 

the  woods,  or  among  the  willows  growing  densely  along  all  western 
streams,  are  awaiting  the  growth  of  their  horns.  About  the  time  of  the 
shedding  of  the  winter  coat,  in  earliest  -spring,  the  elk  finds  his  antlers 
uneasy  upon  his  head,  and  begins  to  rub  them  against  trees  until  they  fall 
off.  You  meet  with  discarded  horns  all  over  the  mountainous  West,  and 
formerly  they  were  so  abundant  that  the  Indians  heaped  them  into  lofty 
monuments. 

His  antlers  gone,  the  buck  feels  like  Samson  after  the  clipping  of  "his 
hair.  He  is  afraid  to  meet  other  bucks,  against  whom  he  can  no  longer 
oppose  equal  weapons.  lie  is  shy  of  the  does,  to  whose  favor  his  splen- 
did antlers  had  once  commended  him  ;  so  he  secludes  himself  in  some 
retired  spot,  and  for  five  or  six  months  waits  for  his  strength  and  beauty 
to  be  restored  to  him  in  a  new  set  of  horns.  During  this  time  he  makes 
as  little  exertion  as  possible  in  securing  the  various  weeds  and  grasses 
which  form  his  food,  and  moves  but  short  distances  from  his  lair. 

No  doubt  he  feels  sick  and  indolent,  for  all  vitality  is  concentrated 
upon  the  building  of  antlers.  Over  the  knob  on  the  skull,  which  is  the 
pedestal  of  the  horn,  spreads  a  thick  skin,  furred  on  the  outside  with 
a  coat  of  short  brown  hairs.  This  skin  is  porous  with  vessels  bringing 
blood  and  the  calcareous  materials  out  of  which  horn  is  constructed,  which 
ooze  through  the  inner  layer  of  this  skin,  and  are  deposited  in  the  form 
of  spongy  tissues  that  become  harder  and  harder,  and  are  surrounded  by 
a  wall  of  denser  structure.  As  fast  as  the  deposits  are  made,  the  soft 
skin,  aptly  called  the  "  velvet,"  enlarges  and  extends  itself,  acting  as  a 
scaffolding  upon  which  the  workmen,  Blood  and  Company,  can  stand  as 
they  put  this  bit  of  tissue  and  that  bit  of  ivory  in  its  place.  At  the  proper 
point  prongs  are  made  to  diverge  and  continue  their  growth,  while  at  the 
same  time  the  building  of  the  beam  of  the  horn  proceeds.  So  the  ant- 
lers are  erected  by  deposits  sent  from  the  velvet  through  all  the  spongy 
mass  of  new  horn,  which  feels  warm  to  the  touch,  and  is  so  soft  that  you 
may  bend  it,  or  carve  it  with  a  penknife. 

In  some  parts  of  the  world  these  growing  horns,  while  still  "in  the 
velvet"  and  surcharged  with  blood  and  nutriment,  become  a  delicacy 
among  foods.  There  is  a  regular  trade  in  edible  reindeer  horns  from 
Siberia  and  Lapland  into  China.  The  half  savage  owner  of  the  herds  puts 
to  some  utility  every  scrap  of  the  reindeer's  body  except  its  antlers.  This 
exception  the  Chinaman  greatly  wonders  at.  He  is  of  the  opinion  that 
no  finer  jelly  exists  than  can  be  made  by  boiling  down  these  succulent 
horns.  Buying  the  antlers  in  large  quantities,  the  border  traders  dry 
them  thoroughly,  and  send  them  to  all  parts  of  the  empire,  and  to  the 


A  NEW   DISH   RECOMMENDED.  171 

home -minded  Celestials  abroad.  I  have  seen  scores  of  dried  antlers 
attracting  envious  eyes  in  the  markets  of  the  Chinese  quarter  of  San 
Francisco.  Our  American  Indians  also  eat  young  deer-horns,  the  Sioux 
and  neighboring  mountain  tribes  devouring  them  raw  with  great  gusto. 
There  is  no  reason  why  civilized  cookery  might  not  avail  itself  of  this 
new  comestible  to  advantage.  Its  rarity,  to  say  the  least,  would  recom- 
mend it  as  a  tidbit  on  great  occasions. 


ELK  ANTLERS  OF  REGULAR  GROWTH. 


At  last  the  tip  of  the  horn  is  reached,  the  capstone  laid.  Then  the 
gates  between  the  heart  and  the  thousands  of  little  canals  are  shut  down, 
the  velvet,  deprived  of  its  support,  dies  and  peels  off,  accelerated  by  much 
rubbing  against  branches,  and  the  horn,  striated  and  ribbed  with  the 
irregular  channels  of  the  old  blood-vessels,  comes  out  in  September  strong 
and  bright.  "  Richard  is  himself  again  !" 

When  one  thinks  of  the  breadth  and  weight  of  elk  antlers  —  often 
forty  pounds — it  is  astonishing  with  what  rapidity  they  are  matured.  The 
beam  of  each  horn  is  sometimes  five  feet  long,  and  twelve  inches  in  cir- 
cumference at  the  base,  their  tips  being  three  feet  apart  and  reaching 
almost  to  the  tail  whenever  the  head  is  thrown  back.  How  great  is  their 
bulk,  compared  with  the  mass  of  the  body,  is  represented  by  the  cut  on 


172  "RICHARD  IS  HIMSELF  AGAIN." 

page  169,  which  shows  very  well  the  form  and  rough  coat  of  the  great 
Wapiti. 

Five  points  constitute  a  "full"  horn,  but  eight  or  ten  are  not  over- 
rare,  while  as  many  as  fifty-one  were  found  on  a  Californian  elk;  but  this 
was  evidently  a  monstrosity.  Yet  this  ponderous  pair  of  horns  grows 
wholly  within  five  months,  and  the  process  is  repeated  each  year  of  the 
elk's  life  after  the  third. 

His  antlers  renewed,  and  his  new  coat  shining,  the  proud  deer  now 
steps  out  of  his  hermitage  and  seeks  society.  He  walks  haughtily,  hold- 
ing his  head  high  and  swaying  it  from  side  to  side  as  though  calling  all 
the  world  to  witness  the  admirable  spectacle.  He  is  Samson  with  his 
hair  regrown.  Then  is  heard  his  shrill  whistle  ringing  through  the  un- 
dertone of  "the  murmuring  pines"  and  echoing  along  the  rocky  canons. 
It  is  his  slogan,  and  every  elk  within  hearing  hastens  to  his  standard, 
except  those  ambitious  of  themselves  leading  highland  clans. 


AN  IRREGULAR   PAIR    OF  HORNS. 


Their  systems  relieved  from  strain,  young  and  old  grow  fat  upon  the 
ripe,  nutritious  grasses,  and,  as  autumn  advances  into  winter,  enormous 
herds  band  together  and  seek  their  winter  range  in  some  mountain  park 
where  the  springs  will  not  completely  freeze  over,  timber  affords  shelter 
from  the  wind,  and  the  snow  will  be  blown  off  the  tops  of  the  knolls 
where  they  may  go  to  feed.  From  October  onward,  therefore,  is  the 


PRESENT  RANGE  OF  THE   WAPITI.  173 

time  to  hunt  them,  either  for  flesh  or  hides  or  sport.  Before  the  heavy 
snows  come  they  will  be  found  high  up,  even  above  timber  line,  escap- 
ing the  flies,  whence  they  descend  in  the  night  to  the  plains  by  retni- 
lar  trails,  easy  to  follow  upon  horseback.  The  elk's  favorite  gait  is  a 
rapid  trot,  but  when  he  runs  it  is  with  a  freedom  of  step  more  like  that 
of  a  horse  than  the  bumping  jump  of  the  mule-deer  or  the  long  leaps 
of  the  antelope.  The  bull  elks,  stooping  their  necks  and  laying  their 
long  horns  back  on  their  withers,  will  gallop  through  thick  woods  with- 
out impediment;  but  sometimes,  when  their  horns  are  in  the  velvet, 
accidents  happen  by  which  they  are  permanently  distorted,  occasionally 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  prevent  the  animal  getting  his  nose  to  the  ground, 
and  so  causing  his  partial  or  utter  starvation. 

Later  in  the  autumn  they  wander  out  upon  the  plains  more  gener- 
ally or  browse  in  the  gulches,  where  they  are  shielded  from  sight.  Yeiy 
restless  animals,  they  are  constantly  moving  from  one  feeding-ground  to 
another. 

If  they  have  not  been  hunted,  it  is  not  difficult  to  get  within  rifle- 
range,  for  after  starting  to  run  away  they  will  very  likely  stop  at  the 
first  ridge  and  gaze  back. 

The  surest  place  to  shoot  them  is  behind  the  shoulder  or  through  the 
neck ;  but  their  hold  on  life  is  strong,  and  remarkable  stories  are  told  of 
the  distance  they  have  travelled  after  being  shot  through  the  vitals,  and 
of  the  amount  of  fighting  they  are  able  to  keep  up  until  the  last  breath 
has  left  their  lungs. 

Nobler  game  does  not  exist,  and  their  clarion  call  is  still  to  be  heard 
through  all  the  northern  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  neighboring  parts  of 
British  America.  I  saw  hundreds  on  the  plains  along  the  Sweetwater 
River,  Wyoming,  in  1877,  and  have  heard  since  of  bands  containing 
several  hundreds  being  met  with  near  the  Wind  River  Range.  But  in 
Colorado,  Utah,  and  California  they  have  been  driven  back  by  civiliza- 
tion until  they  are  wholly  absent  or  very  scarce  where,  twenty  years  ago, 
immense  herds  were  to  be  found. 

Indeed,  their  present  range,  say  from  Colorado  to  Great  Slave  Lake, 
and  from  Nebraska  to  the  Sierra  Nevada,  is  very  small  compared  with 
the  wide  area  over  which  they  were  to  be  found  when  Europeans  first 
began  to  explore  this  continent ;  for  it  is  well  known  that,  within  the 
historic  period,  elks  roamed  over  the  whole  northern  United  States, 
even  to  the  St.  Lawrence  River,  and  southward  through  the  Allegha- 
nies  to  North  Carolina,  wandering  down  all  the  valleys  on  the  Atlantic 
slope  and  penetrating  the  mountainous  regions  south  of  the  Ohio  River. 


THREATENED  EXTINCTION   OF  THE   ELK. 


Both  tradition  and  written  history,  in  the  tales  of  travel  by  the  earliest 
settlers  and  explorers  of  North  America,  assert  this,  and  the  names  of 
streams  and  hills  confirm  it;  just  as  it  is  positively  known  that  the  bison 
formerly  ranged  eastward  as  far  as  western  New  York,  and  thence  south- 
ward to  the  Carolinas,  Arkansas,  and  Texas.  This  was  in  addition  to  all 
the  great  fields  of  the  far  West  to  which  the  elks  have  been  driven  by  the 
advance  of  farming  and  the  growth  of  towns  and  railways.  I  fear  it  will 
not  be  long  before  they  will  become  almost  as  rare,  even  in  our  wildest 
north-western  mountains  and  table-lands,  as  are  those  noble  stags  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands  which  our  elks  so  closely  resemble. 


XVII. 

A  CHAT  ABOUT  BOB  WHITE. 

T^HE  American  partridges  (Perdicidce)  have  been  separated  from  the 
Old  World  partridges  into  a  sub-family  (Odontophorince),  of  which 
we  have  five  genera.  Most  of  these,  however,  are  restricted  to  the  ex- 
treme south-west,  and  there  is  but  one  species  found  throughout  the 
eastern  half  of  the  Union — the  common  "quail,"  as  it  is  called  in  the 
Northern  States ;  "  partridge,"  as  it  is  dubbed  at  the  South ;  and  "  Bob 
White,"  as  it  is  recognized  everywhere — whose  scientific  name  is  Ortyx 
mrginianus. 

The  trisyllabic  call  of  the  quail  is  suggestive  of  a  song;  its  strong, 
short  flight  recommends  it  to  the  gunner;  its  delicate  flesh  is  toothsome 
to  epicures;  its  habits  and  history  are  full  of  interest  to  everybody — 
even  to  the  poets,  for  whom  the  lark,  the  robin,  and  half  a  dozen  other 
singing-birds  usually  suffice. 

The  quails  remain  in  the  upland  grain-fields  and  open  woods  the  year 
round,  even  on  the  upper  Missouri  where  the  mercury  falls  to  30°  below 
zero,  wandering  about  in  bevies,  and  feeding  upon  anything  palatable. 
It  would  perhaps  be  more  accurate  to  say  that  some  quails  are  to  be 
found  in  such  situations  the  year  round,  since  it  is  probable  that  in  the 
northern  portions  of  their  range  they  move  southward,  for  the  most  part. 
In  the  South,  however,  their  migrations — if  they  may  properly  be  termed 
so — are  local  and  irregular,  and  not  general,  as  are  the  great  flights  of 
the  migrating  quail  of  eastern  Europe.  Ours  are  restless,  uneasy  birds, 
attached  to  one  place  while  rearing  their  family,  but  immediately  upon 
the  brood  becoming  able  to  travel  commencing  their  wanderings.  There 
is  no  accounting  for  these  movements,  which  sometimes  deprive  a  whole 
district  of  their  presence  for  a  time,  to  populate  an  adjacent  region  pre- 
viously without  them.  One  of  the  few  examples  of  any  regularity  of 
movement  on  record  is  the  assertion  that  every  fall  quails  cross  the  Missis- 
sippi, from  the  Kentucky  to  the  Missouri  shore,  in  large  numbers,  stopping 
to  rest  at  Island  No.  10.  It  has  also  been  stated  that,  when  such  journeys 


176  BOB  WHITE'S  WOOING. 

are  undertaken,  a  very  large  number  of  birds  participate,  travelling  on 
foot,  and  passing  steadily  through  districts  where  food  is  abundant,  as 
though  they  had  a  definite  destination  in  their  minds.  This  has  been  ob- 
served even  along  the  Chesapeake  Bay.  They  are  so  loath  to  use  their 
wings,  that  large  numbers  are  said  to  perish  in  attempting  to  cross  wide 
rivers  and  inlets.  Such  impulsive  marches  remind  one  of  the  erratic 
migrations  of  squirrels  and  some  other  animals,  which  take  place  in  an 
unlocked  for  time  and  manner;  nevertheless,  it  must  be  admitted,  I  think, 
that  a  partial  and  limited  migration  takes  place  annually  from  the  more 
northern  to  warmer  latitudes,  which  is  influenced  in  its  extent  by  the 
comparative  severity  of  the  seasons;  and,  furthermore,  that  the  quail  is 
more  distinctly  migratory  west  than  east  of  the  Delaware  River. 

About  the  middle  of  March  the  winter  flocks  break  up,  and  the  mat- 
ing begins ;  but  if  the  weather  is  late  in  becoming  settled,  the  wooing  is 
deferred.  Although  not  indulging  in  the  noisy  antics  with  which  the 
grouse  calls  attention  to  its  personal  attractiveness,  Bob  White  becomes 
suddenly  conscious  of  his  comely  appearance  and  good  voice.  Having 
no  false  pride,  he  invites  the  opposite  sex  to  look  at  him  as  an  eligible 
partner,  and  proudly  walks  about,  head  erect,  that  they  may  view  him 
at  his  best.  He  seems  to  understand  that  the  law  holds  its  cegis  over 
him  now,  and  from  the  orchard  gate  calls  a  saucy  good-morning  to  the 
farmer  starting  to  market.  He  knows  that  he  is  attending  adequately  to 
his  department  in  the  great  business  of  nature,  and  is  by  no  means  fearless 
of  being  seen.  But  he  keeps  an  eye  to  hawks,  cats,  and  other  predatory 
enemies  that  respect  neither  time,  place,  nor  season.  He  is  polygamous, 
willing  to  take  any  amount  of  family  responsibility,  and  will  help  to  rear 
two,  or  occasionally  even  three  broods  every  year.  A  successful  pair  of 
quails  often  turn  out  twenty-five  young  in  a  season,  and  it  is  not  uncom- 
mon to  find  a  covey  of  these  little  "  cheepers,"  hardly  able  to  fly,  even 
as  late  as  November. 

Although  paired  so  early,  the  quails  do  not  at  once  proceed  to  the 
business  of  nidification,  and  will  often  be  flushed  in  company  when  you 
are  snipe-shooting  in  April.  About  the  middle  of  May  (in  the  central 
parts  of  their  range)  is  the  time  when  the  nest  is  built.  The  situation 
chosen  is  the  leeward  side  of  some  dense  tussock  of  grass,  or  mouldering 
stump  in  a  wild,  matted  meadow,  at  the  bushy  margin  of  a  clover-field  or 
orchard,  or  in  an  old  pasture  overgrown  with  bramble  thickets ;  and  the 
female,  as  is  her  undoubted  right,  takes  the  lead  in  fixing  upon  the  site. 
The  more  civilized  the  locality,  the  denser  the  cover  sought.  The  nest  is 
an  inartificial  bed  of  grasses  and  vegetable  trash,  filling  a  shallow  depres- 


THE   PARTRIDGE   AS  A  POLYGAMIST.  177 

sion.  Sometimes  it  is  so  placed  as  to  be  concealed  by  naturally  over- 
arching grasses,  through  which  a  regular  tunnel  (sometimes  several  feet 
long)  conducts  to  the  sanctum ;  and  at  others  it  seems  to  be  covered  with 
leaves  and  straws,  rudely  arranged  by  the  birds.  The  nest  is  constructed 
solely  by  the  females  of  the  family,  and  varies  in  dimensions  according 
to  the  number  of  quailesses — if  I  may  use  the  expression — that  anticipate 
using  it;  the  male  bird  meanwhile  going  abroad  in  quest  of  food,  or  sit- 
ting on  a  low  twig  close  by,  constantly  cheering  his  wives  by  his  char- 
acteristic note,  and  very  faithfully  warning  them  of  the  approach  of 
danger. 

The  work  is  prosecuted  with  zeal,  and  three  days  at  farthest  suffice  to 
make  the  nest  ready  for  an  egg,  the  first  of  which  is  immediately  laid, 
and  is  followed,  one  each  consecutive  day,  till  seven  or  eight  have  been 
deposited,  as  a  rule;  it  is  on  record,  however,  that  as  many  as  thirty 
eggs  are  sometimes  found  in  one  nest.  This  is  due  to  the  polygamy  of 
the  male,  which  was  noticed  by  the  earliest  sportsmen  and  ornithologists. 
Mr.  Thomas  Gentry  tells  us  that  in  Pennsylvania  commonly  two,  and 
often  three  and  four  females,  are  taken  by  one  male,  and  that  two  will 
lay  in  the  same  nest  simultaneously  —  besides  which  different  families 
occasionally  lay  eggs  in  each  other's  nests.  "  When  a  pair  has  established 
itself  in  a  locality  from  the  first,"  he  says,  "and  has  been  successful  in 
rearing  a  family  of  young  during  the  ensuing  spring,  if  the  females  are 
in  the  majority  the  unprovided  ones  still  continue,  as  a  general  thing,  to 
linger  with  the  parents  after  their  more  specially  favored  companions 
have  mated  and  moved  elsewhere.  This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  a 
new  locality,  where  the  covey  consists  entirely  of  members  of  a  single 
family.  In  cases  where  several  families  congregate  in  the  fall,  the 
chances  are  greatly  in  favor  of  monogamy.  Small  flocks  are  more  de- 
cidedly polygamous  than  larger  ones.  We  have  never  observed  the  con- 
verse— that  is,  more  than  one  male  to  a  female — but  where  several  pairs 
are  found  in  the  same  field,  at  slight  distances  from  each  other,  there  is 
sometimes  a  noticeable  tendency  to  associate." 

The  eggs  of  the  quail  are  crystal- white,  occasionally  faintly  tinged 
with  yellow,  and  pyriform  in  shape.  The  eggs  are  sat  upon  about  eigh- 
teen days.  Where  the  father  is  not  fortunate  enough  to  possess  a  harem 
a  large  part  of  the  work  falls  upon  him,  while  the  mother  seeks  rest  and 
food ;  but  where  there  are  several  females  the  male  takes  no  part  in  the 
labor  of  incubation,  which  the  females  divide  very  amicably  among  them- 
selves, each  sitting  about  half  a  day  at  a  stretch,  then  calling  her  relief 
with  a  low  note,  if  there  be  only  two ;  while,  if  the  family  be  larger,  two 

12 


178  SUMMER  FARE   OF  THE  QUAIL. 

females  will  sit  side  by  side  on  the  eggs — too  many  in  number  to  be  kept 
warm  by  a  single  breast. 

Meanwhile  the  husband  remains  close  by,  chirping  in  a  low  tone,  and 
at  frequent  intervals  making  the  field  ring  with  his  sonorous  whistle. 
He  is  exceedingly  watchful,  and  if  a  human  being  approaches  the  nest 
— after  giving  the  alarm  to  his  partners,  who  secretly  withdraw  from  the 
nest — he  flings  himself  upon  the  ground  in  front  of  the  intruder,  simu- 
lating lameness  or  injury,  and  seeking  by  every  art  to  attract  attention 
and  pursuit,  until  he  has  beguiled  the  enemy  far  away  from  his  home, 
when  he  seeks  his  own  safety  in  swift  flight.  The  experienced  oologist 
pays  no  attention  to  this  deceit,  but  seeing  in  it  only  a  sure  sign  that  he 
is  near  the  coveted  nest,  pursues  his  search  diligently  until  he  succeeds 
in  discovering  its  whereabouts. 

A  second  brood  is  almost  invariably  reared,  and  often  even  a  third, 
the  latter  not  appearing  until  late  in  the  summer,  and  hardly  getting 
their  growth  before  snow  comes.  The  species,  therefore,  if  unmolested, 
would  increase  with  great  rapidity,  as  has  been  shown  by  the  celerity 
with  which  they  have  replenished  an  area  from  which  they  had  been  all 
but  exterminated,  when  a  period  of  quiet  for  a  season  or  two  had  been 
allowed  them.  As  soon  as  they  leave  the  shell  the  young  run  about  in  a 
very  lively  way,  and  are  in  a  few  days  given  over  to  the  care  of  the 
father,  whom  they  follow  about  and  obey  as  readily  as  they  did  their 
mother,  perhaps  because  they  do  not  recognize  the  change  of  guardians, 
while  she  returns  to  the  cares  of  rearing  a  second  family. 

If  ruthless  death  deprives  the  little  flock  of  two  or  three  members,  the 
rest,  scattered  before  the  gun,  will  continue  calling  to  one  another  far  into 
the  shades  of  night. 

During  the  spring  and  early  summer  the  quail  finds  an  abundance  of 
food  for  itself  and  its  young  in  the  larvae  of  various  insects  just  emerging 
from  the  earth,  the  succulent  shoots  of  growing  plants,  and  such  seeds 
as  they  can  find ;  later  they  are  supplied  with  strawberries,  blueberries, 
huckleberries,  and  various  other  wild  fruits;  and  in  August  feed  upon 
grasshoppers,  when  they  become  fat.  Then  the  seeds  ripen,  acorns  and 
beech-nuts  fall,  many  late  berries  still  hang  upon  the  steins,  the  stubble- 
fields  are  full  of  scattered  wheat,  rye,  barley,  and  maize,  insects  are  plenty 
upon  the  ground,  and  so  the  quail  is  feasted  before  the  winter  begins, 
until  he  becomes  of  that  delectable  plumpness  esteemed  by  ~bon  mvants. 

Attaining  their  full  growth  and  final  adult  plumage  by  the  end  of 
September  (at  least  in  the  case  of  the  earlier  broods),  the  season  of  play 
for  the  partridges  and  sport  for  the  gunner  has  come. 


THE   DIFFICULTIES   OF   QUAIL-SHOOTING.  179 

In  the  United  States  quail-shooting  is  regarded  as  a  test  of  marksman- 
ship, and  in  the  Eastern  and  Middle  States,  where  the  birds  are  hunted  so 
incessantly  that  they  have  become  rare  and  wild,  it  certainly  requires  skill 
and  good  shooting  to  make  a  bag.  Frank  Forester  gave  it  as  his  opin- 
ion that  no  bird  in  this  country  or  any  other  country  was  so  difficult  both 
to  find  and  to  kill  with  certainty.  Bred  in  the  open  fields,  and  feeding 
early  in  the  morning  arid  late  in  the  evening — between  which  times  they 
hide  quietly,  huddled  together  in  little  knots  which  the  best  of  dogs  might 
easily  pass  without  discovering — a  man  may  beat  a  field  all  day,  and  put 
up  only  one  or  two  birds,  when  he  is  certain  that  thrice  as  many  are  con- 
cealed there.  Often,  too,  if  the  sportsman  passes  close  to  them,  they  will 
sit  immovable,  trusting  in  their  inconspicuous  colors  to  conceal  them  until 
he  has  gone  some  distance  beyond,  when  they  will  spring  up  and  away 
like  so  many  arrows.  It  then  requires  a  quick  eye  and  a  steady  hand 
to  turn  and  drop  a  brace. 

When  ultimately  flushed,  they  are  very  fond  of  flying  to  some  par- 
ticular covert ;  and  so  long  as  this  thicket  or  fern-brake  remains  undis- 
covered, they  will  resort  to  it  repeatedly.  Their  concealment  is  aided 
by  another  curious  circumstance,  which  has  occasioned  much  discussion 
among  American  sportsmen. 

It  is  asserted  that,  when  alighting  after  being  flushed,  the  quail  gives 
out  no  scent  for  some  little  time  ;  and  it  has  been  supposed  that  this 
retention  of  odor  is  voluntary  on  the  part  of  the  bird,  as  a  conscious 
method  of  protection.  This  is  believed  in  by  many  persons.  Forester 
admits  the  fact,  but  considers  that  it  is  only  exercised  under  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, and  commits  himself  to  no  explanation.  Some  shooters  be- 
lieve it  is  a  power  belonging  to  particular  bevies,  at  least  in  a  far  greater 
degree  than  to  others,  like  the  custom  of  alighting  on  the  branches  of 
trees  when  frightened  ;  others  restrict  the  faculty  to  particular  individ- 
uals rather  than  bevies  ;  while  the  earlier  ornithologists  do  not  mention 
the  "  retention  of  scent,"  and  the  later  claim  (which  is  probably  true)  that 
quails'  swift  running  over  the  dry  leaves  of  upland  woods  or  meadows 
allows  little  time  and  a  poor  surface  for  the  transmission  of  scent,  and 
that  when  they  drop  suddenly  and  remain  quiet  no  effluvium  escapes, 
although  the  instant  they  move  it  begins  to  be  disseminated.  It  would 
be  better,  therefore,  having  marked  down  a  bevy  of  quails,  since  the 
gunner  may  be  sure  they  will  stay  for  some  time  exactly  where  they  have 
dropped,  to  wait  a  few  moments  before  sending  the  dog  on. 

But,  having  found  your  quail — which,  after  all,  is  not  difficult  for  an 
experienced  sportsman  with  good  dogs — there  yet  remains  the  skilful  art 


180  '  WINTER  HABITS  AND  HARDSHIPS. 

of  killing  him.  Quails  jump  up  with  a  loud  whir,  which  may  easily 
startle  the  sportsman  and  spoil  his  aim  ;  hence  he  must  make  himself 
proof  against  any  such  tremor  of  surprise  before  he  can  hope  to  have 
success. 

As  the  wild  winds  of  November  smite  the  open  fields  and  break  the 
bruised  reeds  the  quail  retreats  to  the  depths  of  the  swamp  or  the  shelter 
of  a  dense  thicket,  and  keeps  life  in  him  the  best  way  he  can  during  the 
cold  and  stormy  days — hunting  the  swamp  and  stubble  for  soft-shelled 
nuts  and  seeds,  torpid  beetles,  the  hard  fruits  and  seed-cases  of  various 
grasses  and  weeds,  some  of  which,  like  the  skunk  cabbage,  taint  his  flesh 
with  their  flavor.  The  forlorn  covey  huddle  together  and  allow  the 
snow  to  cover  them,  trusting  to  shake  it  off  in  the  morning ;  but  some- 
times a  crust  freezes  upon  the  surface,  and  the  poor  birds  find  themselves 
in  a  prison  from  which  they  cannot  break  'out  before  they  starve  to 
death.  Great  numbers  miserably  perished  in  this  way  in  New  Jersey 
in  the  winter  of  1835-36,  and  again  in  Massachusetts  in  the  winter  of 
1866-67. 

This  habit  of  huddling  together  is  one  very  characteristic  of  quails 
all  the  year  round.  At  evening  they  select  some  spot  of  low  ground, 
where  the  long  grass  affords  shelter  and  warmth,  and  encamp,  sleeping 
in  a  circle,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  with  their  heads  out,  keeping  each  other 
warm,  and  all  ready  to  escape  at  an  instant's  notice  without  tumbling 
over  one  another.  A  good  roosting  place  once  found,  they  go  back  to 
it  night  after  night,  leaving  it  in  the  morning  just  before  sunrise  to  seek 
their  breakfast. 

Unless  the  winter  be  unusually  mild,  the  farmer  will  frequently  find 
quails  associating  with  his  cattle  in  the  pasture,  and  even  following  them 
home  to  glean  the  grain  that  falls  about  the  barn-yard,  and  pick  up  the 
scraps  thrown  to  the  chickens.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  this  delightful 
confidence  is  not  often  abused,  and  many  persons  take  pains  to  foster 
bevies  which  they  find  spending  the  winter  in  some  copse  or  brushy  hill- 
side near  the  house,  by  daily  sprinkling  grain  or  clover- seed  upon  the 
snow  where  the  hungry  birds  may  come  and  get  it.  It  is  reward  enough 
—if  the  benefactor  cares  not  to  preserve  them  for  the  selfish  pleasure 
of  shooting  them  the  following  autumn — to  see  the  pert  air  with  which 
one  of  the  cocks  will  perch  himself  on  a  fence  rider,  or  walk  sedately 
along  a  stone  wall  in  the  early  sunlight  of  a  glistening  January  morning. 

As  a  delicate  article  of  food  the  quail  is  greatly  prized,  and  during 
the  time  allowed  by  law  our  markets  are  filled  with  bunches  of  them. 
Various  devices  in  the  shape  of  snares,  nets,  and  traps  have  been  and 


DOMESTICATION   OF   QUAILS.  181 

are  now  called  into  service  to  effect  its  capture,  until,  in  New  England, 
where  it  was  once  very  abundant,  and  was  not  early  enough  protected,  it 
is  fast  disappearing,  and  fresh  importations  have  been  found  necessary 
to  preserve  a  sufficient  number  for  sport.  In  the  Southern  and  Western 
States  bands  of  beaters  cautiously  drive  immense  flocks  into  nets.  But 
there  is  less  danger  of  exterminating  this  than  perhaps  almost  any  other 
species  of  game-bird,  on  account  of  its  sequestered  habits  and  prolificacy. 
Taming  and  domestication  is  an  easy  matter,  although  in  all  cases 
where  the  eggs  have  been  hatched  under  a  hen  at  liberty — a  bantam  is 
the  best — the  quail  chicks  have  run  away  to  the  woods  as  soon  as  the 
leaves  began  to  turn  sear  in  the  fall,  and  never  come  back.  They  sang 
out  their  "Ah,  Bob  White"  just  as  clearly  before  they  had  ever  heard 
one  of  their  kin  as  any  woodland-bred  quails  could  do.  It  is  not  uncom- 
mon to  re-colonize  portions  of  the  Eastern  States  that  have  become  de- 
populated, and  an  effort  made  to  introduce  the  bird  into  the  Salt  Lake 
Valley  of  Utah  succeeded  admirably.  Some  of  the  West  India  islands 
have  been  colonized  in  the  past  few  years,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  this 
quail  might  not,  with  care,  be  acclimatized  in  Great  Britain,  and  thrive 
in  English  preserves  until  there  are  plenty  for  all  the  purposes  of  good 
sport ;  yet  up  to  the  present  time  the  attempts  which  have  been  made 
in  England  and  Ireland  to  do  this  have  completely  failed. 


XVIII. 

SEALS  AND   SEAL-HUNTING  IN  THE  NORTH  ATLANTIC. 

HALF  a  dozen  years  ago  I  knew  a  blue -eyed,  brown  -  haired,  and 
peach-cheeked  little  girl,  whom  her  father  used  to  call  his  "  harbor- 
seal."  If  you  had  ever  seen  her  lying  face  down  in  the  cradle — her  fa- 
vorite position — holding  up  a  round,  fuzzy  little  head,  you  would  have 
understood  at  once  why  he  called  her  so;  for  that  is  precisely  the  way 
a  seal  looks  when  it  is  resting  on  a  rock  or  a  piece  of  ice. 

Scores  of  years  back,  before  the  settlement  of  North  America  by  Eu- 
ropeans, seals  were  wont  to  come  to  its  shores  even  as  far  southward  as 
the  Carolinas,  and  were  common  visitors  from  New  Jersey  northward. 
Robin's  Reef,  in  New  York  Bay,  passed  by  all  the  Coney  Island  steam- 
boats, gets  its  name  from  the  Dutch  word  robin  or  robyn — "  seal " — be- 
cause those  animals  used  to  resort  there  in  great  numbers.  To-day  they 
are  uncommon  even  along  the  coast  of  Maine,  scarcely  abundant  in  the 
Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  are  slowly  being  driven  inside  the  arctic  circle. 

Now  this  disappearance  of  the  seals  from  our  own  coast  has  been 
brought  about  by  incessant  persecution,  and  it  seems  to  me  very  unfort- 
unate. How  much  it  would  add  to  the  pleasure  of  a  voyage  down  the 
bay,  or  a  ramble  along  the  weedy  and  wave-polished  beach,  if  we  could 
see,  here  and  there,  trim,  brown  animals  creep  up  from  the  water  on  some 
projecting  rock,  shaking  the  drops  of  water  from  their  coats,  and  gaz- 
ing at  us  with  no  fear  in  their  mild  eyes!  But  sadly  for  our  amuse- 
ment, and  for  the  seals  themselves,  their  bodies  have  a  value  in  the 
market  —  and  great  fleets  every  year  are  fitted  out  to  engage  in  tin's 
fishery. 

The  word  "fishery"  ought  to  imply  a  "fish"  to  be  caught;  but  the 
term  has  become  perverted :  for  instance,  we  speak  of  whale,  sponge, 
coral,  crab,  and  oyster,  or  clam  fisheries,  yet  none  of  these  animals  is  in 
the  least  a  fish.  Neither  is  the  seal,  although  it  lives  in  the  water,  swims 
and  dives.  It  is,  indeed,  nothing  but  a  warm-blooded,  fur-coated  mam- 
mal, with  all  the  internal  organs  and  outside  structure  of  a  quadruped. 


A  BIT  OF  COMPARATIVE  ANATOMY.  185 

"What!"  you  exclaim,  "'all  the  outside  structure'  of  an  otter,  for 
example?" 

Yes,  but  not  the  same  appearance.  Let  me  explain  to  you  how  this 
is.  If  we  could  study  the  outlines  of  the  heads  of  both,  and  compare  the 
skulls,  or  pictures  of  the  skulls,  of  the  seal  and  the  otter,  we  should  see 
at  once  how  the  bones,  and  the  shape  and  arrangement  of  the  teeth  in 
one  resemble  those  in  the  other.  And  if  we  had  also  a  picture  of  the 
skull  of  a  codfish,  we  should  see  how  different  from  it  are  the  skulls  of 
the  otter  and  seal. 

Now  look  at  the  limbs.  I  have  heard  of  a  boy  who  defined  a  quad- 
ruped as  an  animal  having  a  leg  at  each  corner.  Perhaps  that  would  fit 
the  otter,  but  you  think  that,  certainly,  it  would  not  describe  the  seal, 
"which  hasn't  legs  at  all,"  yon- say,  "but  fins  or  'flippers."1 

If  I  had  the  time,  I  could  prove  to  you  that  the  difference  between 
the  fin  of  a  fish  and  the  bone-leg  of  an  otter  or  of  a  dog,  or  your  own  arm, 
is  not  so  very  great ;  and  it  would  be  easy  to  show  how  nearly  alike  the 
flipper  of  the  seal  and  fore-leg  of  a  land  mammal  really  are.  On  examin- 
ing diagrams  of  the  bones  in  a  seal's  flipper  and  an  otter's  fore-leg,  you 
will  find  that  you  can  match  every  bone  of  the  one  by  a  similar  bone  of 
the  other.  The  shapes  of  the  bones,  to  be  sure,  are  altered  to  suit  the 
varied  uses  of  swimming  in  the  water  and  walking  on  the  land;  but  all 
the  parts  of  the  arm  and  hand  (or  fore-foot)  of  the  otter,  or  any  other 
mammal,  are  seen  also  in  the  flipper  of  our  subject — only  there  they  are 
shortened,  thickened,  and  covered  with  a  membrane  which  converts  them 
into  a  paddle  instead  of  a  paw. 

The  same  comparison  will  hold  good  for  the  hind-feet  of  the  otter 
and  the  hind-flippers  or  "  tail "  (which  is  not  a  tail)  of  the  seal ;  and  it  is 
equally  true  of  the  walrus,  and  of  the  whale,  porpoise,  grampus,  blackfish 
and  other  cetaceans. 

Of  course,  being  mammals,  these  animals  must  breathe  air.  You 
could  drown  any  of  them  by  forcing  it  to  remain  under  the  water  too 
long.  Whales  can  stay  down  an  hour  or  more,  if  necessary,  and  seals  can 
hold  their  breath  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  though  they  do  not  like 
to  be  under  as  long  as  that.  Of  course,  therefore,  it  is  necessary  for  seals 
to  be  able  to  reach  the  air,  even  in  spite  of  the  sheet  of  thick  ice  which 
for  half  the  year  covers  the  whole  ocean  in  the  arctic  seas,  where  mainly 
is  their  home.  But  in  large  bodies  of  ice  there  always  are  some  holes,  no 
matter  how  cold  the  weather  may  be ;  and  these  holes  afford  the  seals  of 
that  region  an  opportunity  to  come  to  the  surface  to  breathe.  There  are 
some  species-,  however,  that  keep  round,  smooth-edged  air-holes  open  for 


186  ENEMIES  OF  THE   SEAL. 

themselves  by  continually  breaking  away  the  young  ice  as  fast  as  it  is 
formed.  These  holes  are  never  very  large  at  the  surface — sometimes  only 
big  enough  to  let  one  animal  poke  his  nose  up  through ;  they  are  much 
like  chimneys,  indeed,  for  the  ice  may  sometimes  be  a  hundred  feet  thick. 

Before  I  go  further,  let  me  say  that  the  word  "  seal "  applies  to  several 
families  of  pinnipeds,  only  one  of  which  concerns  us  at  present.  This  is 
the  Phocidce,  or  family  of  earless  seals,  of  which  the  common  harbor-seal, 
the  ringed  seal,  the  harp  or  Greenland  seal,  and  the  bearded  or  hooded 
seal,  are  chiefly  to  be  remembered.  Concerning  the  gigantic  sea-elephant 
of  the  antarctic  pole,  the  huge  sea-lions  of  the  Pacific,  and  the  various 
"fur"  seals,  we  have  no  occasion  to  speak.  All  our  present  subjects  in- 
habit the  coasts  of  the  arctic  zone  washed  by  the  North  Atlantic,  and 
principally  Greenland  and  Newfoundland. 

While  the  breathing-holes  in  the  ice  afford  the  seals  their  only  possi- 
bilities of  life,  they  often  prove  to  be  death-traps,  since  many  foes  lie  in 
wait  near  them. 

The  enemies  of  seals,  other  than  man,  are  not  a  few,  both  on  land  and 
in  the  water.  The  polar  bear,  finding  their  holes,  watches  as  quietly  and 
vigilantly  as  a  cat  for  a  mouse,  and  leaps  upon  them  as  they  rise  to 
breathe,  or  even  chases  them  into  the  sea,  and  so  captures  a  great  many. 
The  arctic  wolves  and  foxes,  the  raven,  and  probably  also  the  great  snowy 
owl,  attack  the  young  before  they  are  able  to  defend  themselves  or  escape, 
making  their  onslaughts  so  actively  that  the  heavy  and  awkward  parents 
have  hard  work  to  defend  their  babies.  The  full-grown  seals,  as  well  as 
the  young,  are  seized  in  the  water  by  sharks  and  sword-fish,  and  also  by 
killer-whales,  which,  though  of  small  size,  are  able  to  conquer  the  mon- 
strous right-whale. 

Travellers  say  that  when  a  sword-fish  sees  a  seal  upon  a  floating  "  pan  " 
or  cake  of  ice,  he  will  get  on  one  side  and  tip  the  pan  down  to  such  an 
angle  that  the  seal  must  slip  off,  and  then  will  devour  it.  So  great  is  a 
seal's  terror  of  these  water  foes  that,  should  a  man  be  on  the  pan  when 
sword-fish  and  sharks  are  after  him,  the  seal  will  run  between  his  feet  for 
protection.  Many  seals  are  killed,  too,  by  fighting  among  themselves, 
and  by  the  fierce  storms  of  the  frozen  zone. 

The  most  ingenious  and  dreaded  enemies  of  the  seal,  however  (leaving 
out  of  sight  for  the  present  the  white  men),  are  the  Eskimos.  To  them 
seals  are  of  the  utmost  importance,  and  we  may  say  that  in  many  parts  of 
the  arctic  world  men  could  not  live  without  these  animals.  The  Eskimos' 
methods  of  hunting  this  game,  and  the  hundred  ways  in  which  they 
utilize  its  body,  will  be  interesting  matters  to  look  into. 


SEAL-SKIN  TROUSERS  AND  PETTICOATS. 


187 


The  harbor-seal  is,  perhaps,  the  least  serviceable  of  seals,  since  he  is 
not  common  very  far  north  of  Labrador;  but  his  flesh  is  considered  the 
best,  and  on  the  Pacific  coast  the  Indians  take  whole  herds  at  once,  by 
stealing  upon  them  when  they  are  basking  on  the  beach  or  in  shallow 


PANIC-STRICKEN  BY  A  SWORD-FISH. 

bays,  and  drawing  a  seine  around  them.  The  hides  of  the  old  ones  are 
good  only  for  tents,  but  those  of  the  yonng  are  highly  prized  ;  and  no 
present  is  more  acceptable  to  a  Greenland  damsel  than  the  prettily  mot- 
tled skin  of  a  Ttassigiak  (as  she  would  call  it),  out  of  which  she  will  make 
the  wide,  warm  trousers  that  serve  her  in  the  place  of  petticoat. 

Another  seal,  of  which  the  Greenlanders  do  not  get  many — the  hooded 


188  MIGRATIONS  OF  GREENLAND   SEALS. 

seal — is  very  large,  and  is  especially  prized  on  account  of  the  thickness  of 
its  skin.  Out  of  it  they  make  not  only  the  slender-pointed  canoe-like 
boats,  called  "  kayaks,"  in  which  they  chase  this  and  other  wandering 
species,  but  also  the  stout  lines  to  which  their  harpoons  are  attached.  It 
gives  durable  soles  for  their  boots,  too,  and  strong  harnesses  for  the  dogs, 
besides  which  the  flesh  is  sweet.  It  is  one  of  the  most  easily  killed  of  all 
seals,  because  it  is  not  watchful.  The  harp-seal  is  also  readily  killed  along 
the  edges  of  the  ice-floes*  by  the  kayaker,  but  he  values  it  little,  excepting 
to  eat;  the  bearded  seal,  or  "square-flipper,"  on  the  contrary,  shows  fight, 
taxing  the  courage  and  skill  of  the  bravest  of  those  hardy  natives  to  over- 
come its  fierce  resistance  and  avoid  its  terrible  bite. 

The  one  seal  useful  above  all  others  to  the  Eskimos,  and  eagerly  pur- 
sued, is  their  favorite  netsick,  one  of  the  smaller  species,  frequently  called 
in  our  books  the  ringed  seal,  or  "  floe-rat."  It  is  confined  to  the  polar 
seas,  rarely  wandering  south  of  Labrador,  but  it  belongs  also  to  the  arctic 
shores  of  Europe,  Asia,  and  Alaska,  so  that  not  only  the  Eskimos  proper, 
but  many  arctic  Indian  tribes,  regularly  hunt  it. 

Although  it  is  hunted  throughout  the  year,  the  most  profitable  time 
for  killing  the  netsick  is  in  April,  when  each  mother  seal  is  accompanied 
by  a  young  one.  Here,  perhaps,  I  may  digress  a  little  in  order  to  tell  you 
something  of  the  babyhood  of  the  Greenland  or  harp  seal. 

Of  the  different  sorts  of  seals  I  have  mentioned,  all  but  two  are  migra- 
tory— that  is  to  say,  the  whole  body  of  them  move  from  north  to  south 
each  autumn,  and  back  from  south  to  north  each  spring.  Upon  this  im- 
portant fact  the  great  fleets  of  fishermen,  of  which  I  shall  give  an  account 
presently,  depend  for  their  success.  The  annual  southward  journey  of 
the  restless  harp-seal  furnishes  a  vivid  picture  of  these  great  migrations 
which  are  so  prominent  a  feature  of  polar  history.  Keeping  just  ahead 
of  the  "making"  of  the  ice,  or  final  freezing  up  of  the  fiords  and  bays, 
at  the  approach  of  winter  they  leave  Greenland,  and  begin  their  passage 
southward  along  the  coast  of  Labrador,  freely  entering  all  the  gulfs  and 
bays.  They  appear  first  in  small  detachments  of  half  a  dozen  to  a  score 
or  more  of  individuals ;  these  are  soon  followed  by  larger  companies,  until 
in  a  few  days  they  form  one  continuous  procession,  filling  the  sea  as  far 
.as  the  eye  can  reach.  Floating  with  the  arctic  current,  their  progress  is 
extremely  rapid,  and  in  but  one  short  week  the  whole  multitude  has 
passed.  Arriving  at  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  some  enter  the  gulf,  but  the 


*  A  field  of  floating  ice,  in  the  arctic  phrase,  is  a  "floe,"  so  long  as  it  remains  a  firm 
.sheet;  when  it  breaks  up  it  becomes  a  "pack,"  or  "pack-ice." 


BIRTH-PLACE   OF   SEAL-BABIES.  189 


A   HARP-SEAL   MOTHER  AND   HER   LITTLE   ONE. 

great  body  move  onward  along  the  eastern  coast  of  Newfoundland,  and 
thence  outward  to  the  Grand  Banks,  where  they  arrive  about  Christmas. 
Here  they  rest  for  a  month,  and  then  they  turn  northward,  slowly  strug- 
gling against  the  strong  current  that  aided  them  so  much  in  their  south- 
ward journey,  until  they  reach  the  great  ice-fields  stretching  from  the 
Labrador  shore  far  eastward — a  broad  continent  of  ice. 

During  the  first  half  of  March,  on  these  great  floating  fields  of  ice,  are 
born  thousands  of  seal-babies — only  one  in  each  family,  to  be  sure,  but 
with  plenty  of  play-fellows  close  by — all  in  soft  woolly  dress,  white,  or 
white  with  a  beautiful  golden  lustre.  The  Newfoundlanders  call  them 
"  white-coats."  In  a  few  weeks,  however,  they  lose  this  soft  covering, 
and  a  gray,  coarse  fur  takes  its  place.  In  this  uniform  they  bear  the 
name  of  "  ragged-jackets ;"  and  it  is  not  until  two  or  three  years  later  that 
the  full  colors  of  the  adult  are  gained,  with  the  black  crescentic  or  harp- 
like  marks  on  the  back  which  give  them  the  name  of  "  harps." 

The  squealing  and  barking  at  one  of  these  immense  nurseries  can  be 
heard  for  a  very  long  distance.  When  the  babies  are  very  young,  the 
mothers  leave  them  on  the  ice  and  go  off  in  search  of  food,  coming  back  fre- 
quently to  look  after  the  little  ones;  and  although  there  are  thousands  of 
the  small,  white,  squealing  creatures,  which  to  you  and  me  would  seem  to 
be  precisely  alike,  and  all  are  moving  about 'more  or  less,  the  mother  never 
makes  a  mistake  nor  feeds  any  bleating  baby  until  she  has  found  her  own. 
If  ice  happens  to  pack  around  them,  so  that  they  cannot  open  holes  or 
get  into  the  water,  the  whole  army  will  laboriously  travel  by  floundering 


190  NURSERIES  ON  DRIFTING   ICE. 

leaps  to  the  edge  of  the  field  ;  and  they  show  an  astonishing  sagacity  in 
discerning  the  proper  direction.  It  is  supposed  that  they  can  smell  the 
water  at  a  long  distance. 

Sometimes  great  storms  come,  breaking  the  ice-floes  in  pieces  and  jam- 
ming the  fragments  against  one  another,  or  upon  rocky  headlands,  with 
tremendous  force.  Besides  the  full-grown  seals  that  perish  in  such  gales, 
thousands  of  the  weak  infants  are  crushed  to  death  or  drowned,  notwith- 
standing the  dauntless  courage  of  their  mothers  in  trying  to  get  their 
young  out  of  danger  and  upon  the  firm  ice.  And  it  is  touching  to  watch 
a  mother  seal  struggling  to  get  her  baby  to  a  safe  place,  "either  by  trying 
to  swim  with  it  between  her  fore-flippers,  or  by  driving  it  before  her  and 
tossing  it  forward  with  her  nose."  The  destruction  caused  by  such  gales 
is  far  less  when  they  happen  after  the  youngsters  have  learned  to  swim. 

Does  it  surprise  you  that  seals  which  are  constantly  in  the  water  have  to 
learn  to  swim  ?  Well,  it  might  stagger  the  phocidse  to  be  told  that  men 
have  to  be  taught  to  walk.  The  fact  is,  a  baby  seal  is  afraid  of  the  water ; 
and  if  some  accident  or  his  mother's  shoulder  pushes  him  into  the  surf 
when  he  is  ten  or  a  dozen  days  old,  he  screams  with  fright  and  scrambles 
out  as  fast  as  he  can.  The  next  day  he  tries  it  again,  but  finds  himself 
very  awkward  and  soon  tired ;  the  third  day  he  does  better,  and  before 
long  he  can  dive  and  leap,  turn  somersaults  (if  he  is  a  bearded  seal), 
and  vanish  under  the  ice,  literally  "  like  a  blue  streak,"  the  instant  danger 
threatens.  But  he  had  to  learn  how,  to  begin  with,  like  any  other  mammal. 

It  is  when  the  seals  are  busy  in  caring  for  their  helpless  babies,  and 
giving  the  better  grown  youngsters  their  early  lessons,  that  the  Eskimo 
hunters  seek  most  diligently  to  kill  them.  This  is  not  merely  for  the 
pleasure  of  it — not  that  at  all,  perhaps — but  because  their  flesh  and  skins 
are  imperatively  needed.  Those  chiefly  pursued  by  Eskimos,  however, 
are  not  the  species  that  make  the  great  migrations  I  have  just  described, 
but  ringed  seals  (Phoca  fcetida},  whose  habit  it  is  to  remain  on  the  high 
arctic  coasts  all  the  year  round.  Upon  this  animal  the  Eskimos  place 
almost  their  entire  dependence  for  food,  fuel,  light,  and  clothing.  Its 
capture  is  therefore  exceedingly  important  to  every  family. 

At  the  end  of  winter  each  of  the  female  seals  of  this  species  creeps 
up  through  the  breathing-hole  (atluk)',  and  under  the  deep  snow  over- 
lying all  the  ice-field  she  digs  a  cave,  eight  or  ten  feet  long  and  three 
to  five  feet  wide.  At  one  end  of  the  excavation  is  the  breathing-hole, 
affording  a  ready  means  of  retreat  in  case  of  danger.  In  this  cave  the 
young  seal  is  born,  and  though  protected  from  the  sight  of  its  enemies, 
here  it  is  often  captured. 


AN  ESKIMO'S  SUMMER  CAMP. 


191 


About  the  first  of  April  the  Eskimo  hunter  leaves  his  winter  encamp- 
ment, taking  his  family  and  a  few  bits  of  furniture  on  his  dog-sledge,  and 
goes  to  some  locality  where  he  expects  to  find  seals  abound.  Arrived 
there  he  cuts  out  square  blocks  of  hard  snow,  piles  them  up  into  a  round 
hut  with  a  domed  roof,  clearing  away  the  snow  from  the  inside  down  to 
the  hard  ground  or  ice-surface.  Over  this  hut  he  throws  water,  which, 
in  freezing,  cements  all  the  blocks  together;  and  then  he  has  a  good  tight 
house,  as  warm  as  though  made  of  stone.  This  done,  he  and  his  family 


THE  HOODED   SEAL — CYSTOPHORA  CRISTATA. 


are  as  comfortable  as  if  they  were  at  their  winter  home;  and  if  his  hunt- 
ing is  successful,  he  is  contented  and  happy. 

The  old-fashioned  native  manner  of  hunting — some  of  the  Eskimos 
now  have  guns,  and  this  spoils  the  interest — called  for  much  skill  and 


192  TRACKING  SEALS  WITH  DOGS. 

patience.  In  it  each  hunter  has  a  trained  dog  which  runs  on  ahead,  but 
is  held  by  a  strap  around  his  neck  from  going  too  fast  and  far.  The  dog 
scents  the  seal,  lying  in  its  excavation  under  the  snow  (the  level  surface 
of  which,  of  course,  gives  no  sign  of  the  cave),  and  barks ;  whereupon 
the  hunter,  who  is  close  behind,  hastens  forward,  and  by  a  vigorous  jump 
breaks  down  the  cover  before  the  young  seal  can  escape.  If  he  succeeds 
in  cutting  off  its  retreat  it  is  an  easy  prey,  for  he  simply  knocks  it  on  the 
head;  otherwise  he  must  use  his  seal-hook  very  quickly  or  his  game  is 
gone. 

"It  sometimes  happens,"  says  Mr.  L.  Kumlien,  "that  the  hunter  is 
unfortunate  enough  to  jump  the  snow  down  directly  over  the  hole,  when 
he  gets  a  pretty  thorough  wetting.  The  women  often  take  part  in  this 
kind  of  sealing,  and  become  quite  expert.  The  children  begin  when  they 
are  four  or  five  years  old :  the  teeth  and  flippers  of  the  first  catch  are 
paved  as  a  trophy,  and  are  worn  about  the  little  fellow's  neck ;  this  they 
think  will  give  him  good-luck  when  he  begins  the  next  year. 

"As  the  season  advances,  and  the  young  begin  to  shed  their  coats,  the 
roof  of  their  igloo  or  cave  is  often,  or  perhaps  always,  broken  down,  and 
the  mother  and  young  can  be  seen  on  sunny  days  basking  in  the  warm  sun- 
shine beside  their  atluk.  The  mother  will  take  to  the  water  when  the 
hunter  has  approached  within  gunshot,  and  will  leave  the  young  one  to 
shift  for  itself,  which  generally  ends  in  its  staring  leisurely  at  the  hunter 
until  suddenly  it  finds  a  hook  in  its  side.  A  stout  seal-skin  line  is  then 
made  fast  to  its  hind-flipper  and  it  is  let  into  the  atluk.  It  of  course 
makes  desperate  efforts  to  free  itself,  and  is  very  apt  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  mother  if  she  is  anywhere  in  the  vicinity.  The  Eskimo  care- 
fully watches  the  movements  of  the  young  one,  and  as  soon  as  the  mother 
is  observed,  begins  to  haul  in  on  the  line;  the  old  one  follows  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  surface,  until  at  last  she  crosses  the  hole  ai  the  proper  depth, 
when  the  deadly  harpoon  is  planted  in  her  body  and  she  is  quickly  drawn 
out.  If,  however,  the  mother  has  seen  the  hunter  approaching  the  atluk, 
she  will  not  show  herself." 

Norwegian  sailors  declare  that  the  seals  as  they  lie  sleeping  on  the 
ice  are  carefully  guarded  and  watched  over  by  gulls  (Larus  glaucus),  or 
"  burgomasters,"  as  they  are  more  frequently  called ;  and  that  these  birds 
act  the  part  of  faithful  sentinels,  warning  them  on  the  approach  of 
danger.  Captain  Albert  Markham,  when  cruising  off  Nova  Zembla,  in 
1879,  was  once  in  a  position  to  corroborate  this  assertion,  and  has  re- 
corded the  facts  in  his  history  of  the  voyage  of  the  Isbjom.  His  com- 
panion, Sir  II.  G.  Booth,  had  left  the  ship  in  one  of  the  walrus  boats  to 


A  WARNING  FROM   FRIENDLY  GULLS. 


103 


shoot  a  seal  which  had  been  observed  asleep  on  the  ice.  When  he  had 
approached  to  within  about  a  hundred  yards  of  his  would-be  prey,  Cap- 
tain Markham  saw  a  couple  of  these  burgomasters  soaring  over  the  animal, 
occasionally  swooping  down  close  to  its  head,  as  if  imparting  some  con- 
fidential communication.  The  Norwegian  sailors  on  board  at  once  drew 


FLOATING    ON   AN    ICE-PAN. 


attention  to  the  circumstance,  at  the  same  time  saying  that  the  birds  were 
warning  the  seal  of  danger!  The  latter,  however,  took  no  notice,  except 
to  lift  its  head  and  look  for  a  moment  in  every  direction  but  the  right 
one.  As  the  boat  approached  nearer  the  birds  alighted  on  the  ice,  and 
walking  up  to  the  seal  deliberately  pecked  it,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  It's 
quite  time  to  be  off,1'  on  which  the  seal  again  raised  his  head,  sighted  the 
danger,  and  suddenly  diving  into  his  blow-hole,  disappeared,  sadlyr  to  the 
discomfiture  of  the  sportsman.  Captain  Markham  relates  the  fact  as  it 
occurred,  though  it  was  the  only  instance  of  the  kind  that  came  under  his 
notice;  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  when  one  remembers  the  behavior 
of  the  rhinoceros-bird  of  Africa,  and  other  small  "sentinels,"  whose  alert- 
ness is  a  means  of  safety  to  larger  and  less  wary  animals. 

If  you  were  to  examine  the  weapons  by  which  the  Eskimos  manage 

13 


194  ESKIMO   IMPLEMENTS   OF  THE   CHASE. 

to  capture  these  and  other  seals — specimens  of  them  are  in  the  National 
Museum  at  Washington — you  would  be  astonished  at  their  roughness. 
It  is  very  difficult,  especially  for  the  northern  bands,  to  get  any  wood 
excepting  sticks  that  are  washed  ashore,  and  a  piece  long  enough  to  make 
a  good  spear-handle  is  extremely  rare.  In  most  cases,  therefore,  they  are 
obliged  to  splice  two  or  three  short  pieces  together,  and  this  they  can  only 
do  by  slanting  both  ends,  and  binding  the  pieces  at  their  juncture  with 
strings  of  raw-hide  or  strips  of  intestine.  The  striking  end  of  the  spear 
usually  consists  of  a  long  and  pretty  straight  piece  of  bone,  such  as  can 
be  got  from  a  whale's  or  walrus's  skeleton,  and  this  is  tipped  with  a  sharp 
point  of  bone  or  flint,  or  (nowadays  generally)  of  iron.  Sometimes  this 
tip  is  movable,  so  that  when  it  penetrates  the  flesh  it  will  slip  off  the 
staff  and  be  held  only  by  the  line,  while  the  handle  floats,  secured  to 
the  line  by  a  loop. 

Other  spears  have  a  skin  buoy  attached,  this  making  it  more  difficult 
for  the  poor  animal  to  swim  away,  and  also  helping  to  float  the  weapon 
if  the  hunter  misses  his  aim.  The  stout  lines  are  made  of  seal-hide,  or 
sometimes  of  braided  spruce-roots.  The  "hooks"  mentioned  above  have 
wooden  or  bone  shafts,  to  the  end  of  which  a  curved  and  sharpened  hook 
of  bone  is  firmly  bound.  Besides  these,  other  rough  weapons,  and  a  kind 
of  net,  are  used  in  the  capture  of  these  wary  animals,  in  all  of  which  the 
seal's  hide  and  bones  contribute  to  his  tribe's  destruction,  and  which  are 
marvels  of  savage  ingenuity. 

Many  of  them  are  used  later  when  the  ice  breaks  up  and  the  Eski- 
mos can  go  out  on  the  ugliest  of  voyages  in  their  kayaks,  the  crankiest 
of  primitive  craft ;  but  this  is  an  adventure  they  never  shirk,  and  one 
that  their  acquaintance  with  Europeans  has  not  changed  at  all.  The 
kayak  is  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  long,  but  is  so  light  that  it  can  be  car- 
ried by  the  one  man  who  forms  the  crew.  It  is  all  decked  over,  except- 
ing a  little  round  hole  through  which  the  young  Eskimo  squeezes  his 
legs  and  sits  down.  Then  he  puts  on  a  tight  oil-skin  coat  over  his  gar- 
ments, and  ties  it  down  to  the  deck  all  around  him,  so  that  no  water  can 
pour  in  "  'tween  decks."  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  must  untie  the 
knots  before  he  can  get  out ;  so,  if  by  chance  he  capsizes,  he  must  either 
be  content  to  navigate  head  down  and  keel  up,  or  else  must  right  him- 
self by  a  sort  of  somersault,  which  shall  bring  him  up  on  the  opposite 
side — and  this  he  often  actually  does. 

When  the  kayaker  catches  sight  of  a  seal  he  advances  within  about 
twenty-five  feet  of  it,  and  hurls  his  harpoon  "by  means  of  a  piece  of 
wood  adapted  to  support  the  harpoon  while  he  takes  aim,"  called  a  throw- 


PURSUING  THE  SEAL  AFLOAT. 


195 


ing-stick.  Curiously  enough,  the  far-distant  Australasians  had  a  similar 
contrivance  for  hurling  javelins.  As  he  throws,  the  kayaker  loosens 
the  bladder  and  tosses  it  off.  The  animal  struck  dives,  carrying  away 
the  coiled-up  line  with  great  speed  ;  if  in  this  moment  the  line  happens 
to  become  entangled,  the  canoe  is  almost  certain  to  be  capsized  and  drag- 
ged away,  with  no  chance  of  rising  again,  and  many  an  Eskimo  has  lost 
his  life  through  such  a  mischance.  But  if  the  attack  has  been  suc- 
cessful, the  bladder  moving  on  the  surface  of  the  water  indicates  the 
track  of  the  frantic  animal  beneath  it,  and  the  hunter  follows  with  the 
large  lance,  which,  when  the  seal  re-appears,  he  throws  as  he  did  the 
harpoon.  This  he  does  again  and  again,  the  lance  always  disengaging 
itself,  until  the  poor  seal  becomes  so  weak  that  it  can  be  overtaken  and 
killed  by  a  lunge  of  the  knife. 


A    "SEAL  MEADOW,"   OR  HEKD  UPON   THE  ICE. 

The  flesh  of  the  netsick  serves  for  food  all  through  the  summer,  and 
is  dried,  or  "cached"  (i.e.  concealed)  in  the  snow,  for  winter  use.  From 
the  skins  of  the  old  seals  the  arctic  natives  make  their  summer  clothing, 
while  undergarments  are  fashioned  from  those  of  the  young  netsick. 
Children  often  wear  entire  suits  of  the  white  skins  of  the  baby  seals  in 
their  first  fuzzy  coat.  With  the  flesh  and  skins  of  the  netsick,  too,  the 
Eskimo  travels  southward  to  the  Danish  settlements,  and  trades  for  such 
civilized  articles  as  he  is  able  to  buy. 


19G  SUMMER  LIFE  AND  SUBSISTENCE. 

Late  in  the  summer,  when  the  young  seals  have  grown  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  and  the  herds  are  away  enjoying  the  open  sea  and 
getting  fat  on  the  abundant  food  they  find  at  that  season,  the  Eskimo 
has  to  pursue  them  with  great  caution,  crawling  over  the  ice  face  down- 
ward, and  imitating  their  awkward,  tumbling  play  until  near  enough  to 
hurl  his  spear;  or  he  must  get  into  his  frail  kayak  and  chase  the  herds 
far  up  glacial  fiords  and  away  across  the  rough  and  chilling  sea,  where 
they  are  living  on  the  floating  ice. 

The  food  of  seals  is  various,  but  consists  chiefly  of  fish,  though  the 
young  ones,  when  companies  of  them  first  begin  to  hunt  in  the  shallow 
water  near  shore,  seem  to  like  crabs  better  than  anything  else ;  and  to 
several  species  of  shrimps,  abounding  in  northern  seas,  the  observant 
sailors  have  given  the  name  "seals'  food."  Shell- fish  of  various  sorts, 
too,  are  cracked  in  their  strong  jaws  and  devoured,  especially  the  arctic 
mussels.  They  swallow  many  pebble-stones  also,  not  for  food,  but,  it  is 
supposed,  in  order  to  aid  digestion. 

Now  I  must  force  myself  to  leave  this  hasty  sketch  of  the  natural 
history  of  these  most  interesting  and  serviceable  animals,  regretting  that 
I  cannot  dwell  longer  upon  many  of  its  features,  and  turn  to  the  exciting 
incidents  of  the  chase  conducted  against  them  every  spring  by  ships  and 
crews  from  America  and  Europe,  the  details  of  which  present  a  horrible 
picture  of  blood  and  cruel  warfare  against  one  of  the  most  innocent 
and  child-like  creatures  that  ever  breathed. 

The  phocine  seals  of  the  Atlantic  are  not  hunted  for  their  fur,  as  are 
their  Alaskan  cousins,  but  chiefly  for  their  oil,  and  secondarily  for  their 
skins.  It  is  an  industry  which  profitably  employs  hundreds  of  ships  and 
thousands  of  seamen,  and  it  receives  the  name  of  "sealing."  The  prin- 
cipal sealing-grounds  are  Newfoundland,  Labrador,  and  the  islands  which 
lie  between,  but  especially  the  ice-floes  off  the  coast  of  western  Green- 
land;  the  Spitzbergen  arid  Jan  Mayen  seas;  Nova  Zembla,  the  White 
and  Caspian  Seas.  Of  these  districts  the  most  important  is  Newfound- 
land, where,  as  long  ago  as  half  a  century,  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  vessels  assembled  annually,  and,  twenty-five  years  ago,  five  hundred 
thousand  seals  were  taken  in  a  single  season.  These  early  fleets,  which 
were  larger  in  point  of  numbers  than  any  that  go  out  now,  consisted 
wholly  of  sailing  vessels,  many  of  which  were  of  small  size,  notwith- 
standing the  long  and  tempestuous  voyages  they  had  to  endure.  The 
most  of  them  hailed  from  Newfoundland.  All  these  were  concerned 
in  "ice-hunting,"  which  is  the  most  extensive  and  profitable,  though 


TERRORS  OF  NAVIGATION  IN  THE  ICE.  199 

by  far  the  most  dangerous  of  all  the  methods  in  vogue  for  capturing 
seals. 

You  will  remember  that  at  the  end  of  winter  enormous  herds,  chiefly 
of  the  harp-seal,  come  down  and  congregate  upon  the  floating  fields  of 
ice  eastward  of  Newfoundland,  where  the  young  are  born  in  March. 
The  largest  fishery  occurs  at  that  place  and  season,  but  the  locality  is 
never  fixed  nor  certain  ;  the  fields,  approached  simultaneously  by  sailing 
fleets  and  steamers  from  Newfoundland,  Nova  Scotia,  Scotland,  England, 
France,  Germany,  and  Norway,  must  be  sought  for  every  year  as  though 
for  the  first  time.  This  is  in  the  icy,  tempestuous  North  Atlantic,  at 
the  most  stormy  period  of  the  year.  Dreadful  gales  may  drive  the  ships 
anywhere  but  where  they  seek  to  go,  bergs  may  be  hurled  against  them, 
the  ice  may  jam  them  between  its  ponderous  edges  and  crush  the  doubly 
braced  hulls  into  splinters,  or  cleanly  cut  away  parts  of  the  bottom, 
leaving  the  vessels  to  sink  and  the  men  to  save  themselves  as  best  they 
may  upon  broken  and  drifting  ice.  Strange  to  say,  steamships  are  more 
liable  to  harm  from  the  ice  than  sailing-ships,  which  will  be  lifted  up 
instead  of  crushed.  Often  a  field  of  thin  "  bay-ice,"  or  a  solid  floe,  will 
lie  right  in  the  path  ;  then  the  ship  dashes  into  it  as  far  as  its  power 
can  force  it.  When  it  can  move  no  farther  the  crew  leap  overboard,  chop 
and  break  the  field  into  cakes  which  are  shoved  under  the  floe  or  hauled 
out  on  top ;  or,  if  it  is  too  thick  to  be  broken,  saws  are  brought  out,  and 
a  canal  is  slowly  made  for  the  ship's  progress.  This  is  a  time  of  great 
desire  for  haste,  and  you  may  well  believe  that  every  man  works  with  all 
his  might. 

"  Sometimes,"  writes  an  eye-witness,  "a  crowd  of  men,  clinging  around 
the  ship's  bows,  and  holding  on  to  the  bights  of  rope  .  .  .  would  jump 
and  dance  on  the  ice,  bending  and  breaking  it  with  their  weight  and 
dragging  her  on  over  it  with  all  their  force.  Up  to  their  knees  in  water, 
as  one  piece  after  another  sank  below  the  cut-water  they  still  held  on, 
hurrahing  at  every  fresh  start  she  made — dancing,  jumping,  pushing, 
shoving,  hauling,  hewing,  sawing,  till  every  soul  on  board  was  roused 
into  excited  exertion." 

Well,  when  all  this  toil  and  danger  are  passed  —  sometimes  greatly 
prolonged,  in  the  midst  of  a  frozen  sea  and  the  most  violent  storms — 
and  the  ship  has  the  good-luck  to  sight  a  herd,  then  begins  for  the  crew 
of  hardy  sailors  a  season  of  about  the  most  arduous  labor  that  one  can 
imagine. 

If  the  weather  permits,  the  vessel  is  run  into  the  ice  and  moored  there  ; 
if  not,  it  sails  back  and  forth  in  open  spaces,  managed  by  the  captain  and 


200 


SLAUGHTERING  A  HEKD   OF  SEALS. 


one  or  two  others,  while  the  remainder  of  the  crew,  sometimes  sixty  or 
seventy,  or  even  more  in  number,  get  into  boats  and  row  swiftly  to  the 
floe.  The  young  seals  are  scattered  about  here  and  there,  basking  in  the 
sun  or  sheltered  under  the  lee  of  a  hummock,  and  they  lie  so  thickly  that 
half  a  dozen  will  often  be  seen  in  a  space  twenty  yards  square.  They 
cannot  get  away,  or  at  most  can  only  flounder  about,  and  their  plaintive 
bleatings  and  white  coats  might  almost  be  those  of  lambs.  The  old  seals 
are  frightened  away  by  the  approach  of  the  sailors,  and  never  show  light, 
while  the  youngsters  are  easily  killed  ;  so  the  men  do  not  take  guns,  but 
only  clubs,  with  which  they  strike  the  poor  little  fellows  a  single  blow 
on  the  head,  usually  killing  them  at  once. 


DRAGGING  BUNDLES  OP  PELTS. 


Having  struck  down  all  they  can  see  within  a  short  distance,  the  small 
squad  of  men  who  work  together  quickly  skin,  or  (as  they  call  it)  "  sculp  " 
their  victims  with  a  broad  clasp-knife,  cutting  clear  through  the  thick 
layer  of  fat  which  lies  underneath  the  hide,  and  so  leaving  a  surprisingly 


CARE   OF  THE   SKINS   AND   OIL.  201 

small  carcass  behind.  Bundles  are  then  made  of  from  three  to  seven 
"  pelts,"  and  each  man  drags  a  bundle  towards  the  boat.  This  is  some- 
times miles  distant,  the  ice  is  rough  and  broken,  he  must  leap  cracks, 
trust  himself  to  isolated  cakes,  and  may  often  fall  into  the  freezing  water, 
or  lose  his  way  in  a  sudden  squall  of  snow.  It  is  limb-cracking  and  life- 
risking  work,  and  to  accomplish  it  successfully  a  man  must  school  his 
muscles  to  endurance,  his  nerves  to  peril,  and  his  heart  to  bitter  cruelty ; 
but  every  pelt  is  worth  a  dollar! 

By  night,  after  a  "seal-meadow"  has  been  attacked,  the  decks  of  the 
vessel  are  hidden  under  a  deep  layer  of  fat,  slippery  pelts.  After  tbese 
have  lain  long  enough  to  get  cool,  they  are  stowed  away  in  the  hold  in 
pairs,  each  pair  having  the  hair  outward.  The  hold  is  divided  by  stout 
partitions  into  compartments,  or  "  pounds,"  in  order  to  prevent  the  cargo 
from  moving  about  and  so  rubbing  the  fat  into  oil,  which  would  speed- 
ily fill  every  part  of  the  hold  and  the  cabins,  spoiling  all  the  provisions; 
a  vessel  once  had  to  be  abandoned  from  this  accident  because  it  had  not 
been  "  pounded."  The  European  ships,  however,  generally  separate  tli6 
fat  at  once  and  stow  it  in  casks. 

Sometimes,  instead  of  bringing  the  pelts  to  the  ship  as  fast  as  they 
are  obtained,  the  hunters  pile  them  up,  placing  a  flag  on  the  heap  so 
that  no  other  crew  will  take  them,  for  there  may  be  a  score  or  two  of 
vessels  all  attacking  the  herd  at  once;  and  this  claim  is  respected.  But 
in  very  many  cases  a  snow-storm  hides  these  heaps,  or  they  break  away 
from  the  floe,  or  the  ice  "jams"  and  crushes  them,  or  the  ship  itself  is 
driven  too  far  off  to  return,  so  that  they  are  lost  or  wasted;  hence  the 
practice  of  thus  piling  up  the  pelts  is  ceasing. 

Perhaps  I  have  given  you  the  impression  that  it  is  only  the  young 
seals  that  are  taken  on  these  expeditions,  but  that  is  not  wholly  correct. 
Two  voyages  are  ordinarily  made,  each  lasting  about  two  weeks.  The 
first  voyage  brings  home  few  old  seals,  but  on  the  second  voyage  the  seal- 
ers find  the  youngsters  pretty  well  grown,  and  as  well  able  to  escape  as 
the  old  ones.  They  must  therefore  use  guns  somewhat,  and  otherwise 
manage  to  secure  adult  or  nearly  full-grown  seals,  if  they  are  to  get  any 
at  all. 

There  are  several  methods  of  capturing  these  animals  along  the  shore: 
by  driving  companies  of  them  into  nets  set  among  rocks,  or  spread  un- 
derneath the  ice  at  their  breathing-holes;  by  surprising  them  asleep  on 
the  shore  and  cutting  off  their  retreat ;  by  shooting,  harpooning,  and  so 
on,  all  of  which  are  exciting  and  picturesque. 

Besides  the  skins  and  the  fat,  parts  of  the  flesh  are  preserved  for  food, 


202  IMPORTANCE   OF  THE   SEAL-FISHERY. 

and  those  who  are  accustomed  to  it  recommend  it  highly.  The  flesh  is 
a  "universal  remedy"  among  the  Eskimos.  When  the  Pandora  left 
England  on  her  arctic  expedition  in  1874,  her  interpreter,  Joe,  an  Es- 
kimo, had  a  bad  cough,  but  he  refused  all  medicine,  saying,  "  Bimeby, 
eat  seal,  get  well."  And  sure  enough  his  coughing  was  heard  no  more 
after  he  had  feasted  on  his  favorite  food  for  a  few  days.  "  For  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  who  cannot  succeed  in  making  their  features  suffi- 
ciently attractive  on  chicken  and  cheese-cakes,  no  diet  is  likely  to  suc- 
ceed so  well  as  delicate  cutlets  from  the  loin  of  a  seal." 

When  a  cargo  of  pelts  has  been  brought  home,  the  fat  is  carefully 
removed  and  converted  into  oil  by  exposure  to  the  sun.  The  process  may 
be  hastened  by  the  aid  of  steam,  but  oil  thus  produced  is  said  to  be  poorer 
both  for  lamps  and  for  the  lubrication  of  machines.  The  skins  are  salted 
and  packed,  and  become  cured  in  three  weeks,  finding  ultimate  use  as  shoe- 
leather,  and  as  covering  for  knapsacks,  valises,  small  trunks,  etc. 

In  the  North  Atlantic  alone  the  sealing  gives  employment  every 
spring  to,  say,  twenty-five  steamers  from  Newfoundland,  built  expressly 
for  the  purpose,  besides  unnumbered  sailing  vessels ;  the  crews  of  this 
fleet  making  a  navy  of  about  ten  thousand  eager  young  men.  The  start- 
ing is  a  scene  of  the  greatest  bustle,  and  when  the  men  return  with  rich 
cargoes,  and  get  their  pockets  full  of  money,  there  is  great  hilarity  around 
the  usually  dull  towns  of  that  far  northern  island.  It  is  said  that  in  one 
year,  recently,  a  round  million  of  seals  were  taken  in  the  North  Atlantic 
alone.  Yet  there  seems  to  be  little  or  no  diminution  in  the  crowds  that 
annually  throng  the  ice-floes  when  March  comes  round. 


XIX. 

THE   CAVERNS  AT  LURAY  AND   AT  PIKE'S  PEAK. 

THAT  the  underlying  limestones  of  Page  County,  Virginia,  were  pene- 
trated by  crevices,  horizontal  cracks,  and  some  caverns  of  respectable 
size,  has  long  been  known.  The  general  valley  of  the  Shenandoah  is 
here  badly  broken  up.  At  Riverton  two  streams  unite  to  form  the  main 
river.  Between  them  lies  the  Massanutton  Mountain — an  isolated  range 
parallel  with  the  neighboring  chain,  and  dividing  their  water-sheds.  En- 
closed by  it  and  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  drained  by  the  South  Fork  of  the 
Shenandoah,  lies  the  Page  Valley,  with  the  small  village  of  Luray,  as 
county-seat,  in  the  centre,  on  the  Shenandoah  Valley  Railroad. 

Page  Valley  is  here  several  miles  wide,  and  the  surface  is  diversified 
by  an  endless  series  of  knolls,  ridges,  rocky  outcroppings,  and  deeply  em- 
bedded streams.  "The  rocks  throughout  the  whole  of  this  region  have 
been  much  displaced,  having  been  flexed  into  great  folds,  the  direction 
of  which  coincides  with  that  of  the  Appalachian  mountain -chain.  In 
fact  these  folds  are  a  remnant  of  the  results  of  that  series  of  movements 
in  which  the  whole  system  primarily  originated/'  Hidden  in  the  woods 
near  the  top  of  one  of  these  hills,  about  a  mile  east  of  Luray,  an  old  cave 
has  always  been  known  to  exist.  Connected  with  it  are  traditions  which 
reach  back  to  the  Rnffners,  the  earliest  settlers  of  the  valley.  Peter 
Ruffner  the  First  was  a  Hanoverian,  who  married  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  Pennsylvania  farmer,  and  moved  down  into  this  wilderness, 
where  he  possessed  himself  of  a  large  tract  of  land  and  raised  fifteen  chil- 
dren. His  eldest  son,  Peter  the  Second,  also  got  him  a  wife  and  fifteen 
children,  so  that  the  colonization  of  the  valley  proceeded  with  great  ra- 
pidity. One  of  this  first  generation  of  Ruffners  went  out  hunting  one 
day  and  did  not  come  back.  At  the  end  of  nearly  a  week's  search  his 
gun  and  powder-horn  were  found  at  the  mouth  of  this  cave,  within  which 
the  famished  and  nearly  dead  man  was  at  last  discovered.  Of  course 
nothing  less  could  be  done  than  to  call  it  Ruffner's  Cave,  which  is  printed 
on  all  the  maps  in  attestation  of  the  truth  of  this  history. 


204  DISCOVERY   OF  THE   LURAY   CAVE. 

Knowing  something  of  this  cave,  in  the  summer  of  1878  Mr.  B.  P. 
Stebbins  conceived  the  project  of  a  more  complete  exploration  of  it,  with 
a  view  of  making  it  an  object  of  interest  to  tourists,  and  he  invited  the 
co-operation  of  the  brothers  Andrew  and  William  E.  Campbell.  These 
gentlemen  declined  to  go  into  the  old  cave,  but  were  ready  to  engage  in 
a  search  for  a  new  one,  and  it  was  finally  agreed  to  form  a  "  company" 
for  that  purpose. 

Together  they  went  ranging  over  the  hills  on  both  sides  of  the  valley, 
across  the  fields  and  in  and  out  of  the  abundant  and  tangled  woods,  ex- 
amining every  depression,  peering  into  all  the  dark  corners,  stooping 
under  rocky  ledges  from  which  the  rattlesnake  had  first  to  be  expelled, 
enlarging  holes  whence  scared  foxes  darted  in  dismay  or  drew  their  skins 
into  a  minimum  of  bulk,  hiding  their  bushy  tails  and  skulking  at  the 
uttermost  end  of  their  half-natural  burrow.  They  parted  thickets  only 
to  find  that  they  did  not. hide  the  coveted  prize,  which,  unlike  most 
objects  of  eager  searching,  would  have  an  increased  value  in  proportion  to 
its  hollowness!  Nearly  four  weeks  spent  in  fruitless  search  had  their 
only  effect  in  exciting  the  astonishment  and  ridicule  of  the  neighborhood, 
when,  returning  one  August  day  from  a  long  tramp,  the  men  approached 
home  over  the  hill  where  Ruffner's  Cave  was.  In  the  cleared  land  on 
the  northern  slope,  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  or  so  from  the  mouth  of 
the  old  cave,  was  a  sink-hole  choked  with  weeds,  bushes,  and  an  accumu- 
lation of  rails  and  loose  stories,  which,  for  generations  back,  farmers  had 
been  accustomed  to  toss  in  there  out  of  the  way.  It  occurred  to  them 
that  this  suspicious  hollow  was  worth  investigation.  Clearing  away  some 
of  the  rubbish,  they  fancied  they  felt  currents  of  cool  air  sifting  up 
through.  Laboriously  tumbling  out  the  bowlders,  Mr.  Andrew  Camp- 
bell was  finally  able  to  descend  by  the  aid  of  a  rope  into  a  black  abyss, 
which  was  not  bottomless,  however,  for  he  soon  let  go  of  the  rope  and 
left  his  companions  on  the  surface  to  their  conjectures.  Becoming 
uneasy  at  his  long  absence,  his  brother  also  descended,  and  together  the 
men  walked  in  a  lofty  passage  for  several  rods,  where  their  progress  was 
stopped  by  water.  Returning,  they  told  Mr.  Stebbins  what  they  had 
seen,  and  all  agreed  upon  a  policy  of  silence  until  the  property  could  be 
bought.  Then  they  went  home  and  dreamed  of  "  millions  in  it."  Such 
was  the  discovery  of  the  Luray  Cave. 

Dreams  are  but  a  "  baseless  fabric."  The  property  was  bought  of  a 
bankrupted  owner,  at  sheriff's  sale,  but  upon  an  intimation  of  its  under- 
ground value,  one  of  the  relatives  of  the  original  owner  sued  for  recovery 
upon  an  irregularity  in  the  sale,  and  after  two  years  of  tedious  litigation, 


ANTECHAMBER  OF  THE  CAVERNS.  205 

in  which  the  case  was  carried  to  the  highest  court,  he  won  his  suit.  Pre- 
viously, a  company  of  Northern  gentlemen,  most  of  them  also  interested 
in  the  local  railway,  formed  a  joint-stock  company  to  purchase  the  prop- 
erty, and  it  passed  into  their  hands  in  the  spring  of  1881.  But  during 
the  two  years  the  original  cost  had  swelled,  and  the  early  visions  had 
dwindled  until  they  met  at  $40,000.  This  is  the  history  of  the  "won- 
der,'' and  now  we  are  ready  to  enter  it. 

The  ground  rises  only  a  trifle  from  the  level  of  the  valley  to  the  hill, 
and  on  the  open  slope  stands  a  house  with  porticoes  all  around,  conspicu- 
ous in  fresh  paint,  and  having  a  public  air  about  it.  There  is  the  ordinary 
appearance  of  public  waiting-rooms  about  this  house,  but,  unlike  most 
houses,  the  great  interest  of  it  lies  in  its  cellar.  Registering  your  name, 
your  guide  gives  you  a  tin  frame,  much  like  a  scoop-shovel,  held  upright 
by  a  handle  at  the  back,  which  holds  in  front  three  lighted  candles.  He 
opens  an  inner  door,  and  you  follow  him  down  a  staircase  of  masonry, 
and  before  you  grasp  the  idea  that  your  adventures  have  begun,  you 
find  yourself  in  the  large  antechamber  of  the  caverns.  This  unpre- 
meditated, unintentional  entrance  is  as  though  you  had  been  dropped  in 
the  midst  of  it,  or  had  wraked  from  a  sleep  there,  and  is  most  effectual  in 
putting  the  stranger  en  rapport  with  the  spirit  of  astonishment  which  he 
must  feign,  if  (by  reason  of  any  sad  defect  in  his  constitution)  it  is  lack- 
ing, in  order  to  maintain  his  reputation  in  this  locality  as  a  respectable 
person.  At  the  same  time  the  truth  is  pressed  upon  your  mind  that  this 
cavern  is  not  in  the  side  of  a  mountain,  as  your  preconception  of  it  would 
suggest,  but  underneath  one  of  the  low  hills  which  diversify  the  surface 
of  the  valley,  and  which  remain  from  the  hollowing  out  of  all  the  val- 
leys, and  the  production  of  the  mountains  four  or  five  miles  distant  on 
either  side;  and  the  cave  "has  no  obvious  relation  with  them,  except  that 
its  origin  was  partly  coincident  with  their  origin,  and  with  the  excavation 
of  the  valley  by  erosion." 

When  the  Campbells  first  entered  this  antechamber,  which  is  about 
as  large  as  an  ordinary  barn,  they  were  able  to  follow  a  narrowing  exten- 
sion of  it  only  a  little  way,  when,  as  I  have  said,  they  were  stopped  by 
water.  Some  weeks  later,  in  order  to  make  a  second  exploration,  they 
took  a  small  boat  with  them,  but  found  that  the  water  had  nearly  dried 
away.  We  can  now  walk  across  on  a  causeway  of  clay  for  twenty-five  or 
thirty  yards,  past  the  Vegetable  Garden,  the  Bear  Scratches,  the  Theatre, 
the  Gallery ;  over  Muddy  Lake  on  a  planking  bridge,  which  is  itself 
spanned  by  a  stone  arch ;  through  the  Fish  Market  and  across  the  Elfin 
Ramble— a  plateau  in  which  the  roof  is  generally  within  reach  of  the 


206  ORIGIN  OF  LIMESTONE   CAVERNS. 

hand ;  and  so  come  to  Pluto's  Chasm,  an  underground  ravine  roofed  with 
the  strata  which  support  precisely  similar  gulches  and  chasms  opening 
to  daylight,  and  owing  their  configuration  to  the  same  slow  and  subtle 
agencies.  Most  persons,  trying  with  their  gaze  to  fathom  a  depth  which 
their  candles'  beams  fail  to  penetrate,  but  which,  by-and-by,  their  feet 
lead  them  to,  are  tempted  to  exclaim,  "  What  mighty  convulsions  rent 
these  walls  asunder!"  forgetting  the  imparted  stratum  of  native  rock 
overhead.  But  cataclysm,  as  the  all-potent  word  to  explain  every  hard 
conundrum  of  geology,  is  obsolete.  As  in  the  fable  of  the  hare  and  the 
tortoise,  an  agency  infinitely  slower,  a  very  type  of  gentleness,  has  done 
the  same  work  while  the  convulsion  slept. 

Great  caves  can  only  occur  in  a  limestone  region,  and  they  result  from 
the  chemical  fact  that  the  carbonates  of  lime  and  magnesia  are  soluble 
in  water  containing  carbonic  acid.  "  This  acid  abounds  in  atmospheric 
air,  and  is  one  of  the  products  of  the  decomposition  of  animal  and  vege- 
table waters,  so  that  rain-water  which  has  percolated  through  the  soil  has 
usually  been  enriched  with  it  from  both  sources.  With  carbonic  acid, 
then,  as  the  active  agent,  and  water  as  the  carrier,  we  are  able  to  account 
for  the  disappearance  of  strata  however  thick,  and  whether  above  or 
below  ground.  Above  ground  the  result  is  a  lowering  of  the  general 
level,  the  deposition  of  a  residual  stratum  of  clay  (a  constituent,  in  a 
finely  divided  condition,  of  the  Valley  limestones),  and  the  formation  of 
valleys  where  special  causes  have  favored  the  disintegration  of  the  stone. 
i  Hard '  water  flows  away,  and  a  clay  soil  is  left  behind.  Below  ground, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  result  is  a  cave — if  there  be  a  fissure  in  the  strata 
through  which  the  acidified  water  may  make  its  descent.  In  the  course 
of  time  this  fissure  is  worn  larger,  and  the  entering  water  dissolves  and 
bears  away  with  it  bit  by  bit  the  stratum  through  which  it  passes,  flow- 
ing out  at  some  lower  level  with  its  burden  of  lime  and  magnesia,  but 

O  G 

leaving  the  clay  behind  to  plague  the  adventurous  cave-hunter." 

Given  the  initiatory  crack — common  enough  in  limestones — and  it 
only  requires  time  and  abundance  of  water  to  hollow  out  Pluto's  and  all 
the  other  chasms,  halls,  galleries,  and  avenues  which  make  up  this  or  a 
more  extensive  series  of  caverns;  and  when  once  this  work  has  well 
begun,  other  natural  agencies  contribute  their  aid  to  the  enlargement  of 
the  area  and  the  adornment  of  its  interior. 

From  the  chasm,  where  there  is  a  Bridge  of  Sighs,  a  Balcony,  a 
Spectre,  and  various  other  names  arid  habitations,  we  recross  the  Elfin 
Ramble,  walk,  wherever  dry,  on  mud  or  tufaceous  floor  or  ringing  rock 
(when  honey-combed,  sounding  hollow  beneath  the  tread),  and  in  muddy 


GEOLOGY  OF   THE  LURAY  CAVE.  207 

or  difficult  places  upon  bridges  of  pine  planking,  which  rots  away  and 
must  be  replaced  every  nine  months.  We  pass  successively  Titania's 
Veil,  Diana's  Bath  —  the  lady  was  not  fastidious  —  and  come  to  a  very 
satisfactory  Saracen  Tent. 

Then  we  ascend  stairways  past  the  Empress  Column — easily  empress 
of  all,  I  think  —  and  proceed  under  the  Fallen  Column  to  the  spacious 
nave  of  the  Cathedral.  We  pause  to  note  its  lofty  groined  roof  and 
Gothic  pillars — surely,  in  some  like  scene  to  this,  the  first  architect  of  that 
style  met  his  inspiration  ! — its  large,  Michael- Angelesque  Angel's  Wing, 
and  its  Organ.  Then  we  sit  down  and  turn  to  the  prostrate  stalactite. 
It  is  as  big  as  a  steamboat  boiler,  and  bears  an  enormous  pagoda  of 
Btalagmitic  rock  which  has  grown  there  since  it  fell.  It  thus  forms  a 
good  text  for  a  conversation. 

Here  Dr.  C.  A.  White,  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  stands  as  au- 
thority. The  rock  out  of  which  Luray  Cavern  has  been  excavated  is  a 
compact,  bluish  limestone,  not  very  evenly  bedded,  and  weathering  rug- 
gedly on  account  of  its  heterogeneous  texture,  a  fact  to  which  the  almost 
endless  variety  and  irregularity  to  which  it  chiefly  owes  its  charm  is  large- 
ly due.  The  few  fossils  discovered  indicate  that  this  limestone  stratum 
is  of  lower  silurian,  probably  belonging  to  the  Trenton  period. 

The  position,  of  the  cave  in  the  middle  of  an  open  valley,  distant  from 
the  mountains,  and  so  much  below  their  crests,  shows  that  it  was  hollowed 
out  towards  the  close  of  the  epoch  within  which  the  formation  of  the 
valley  took  place.  The  character  of  the  erosion  leads  to  the  conviction 
that  the  excavation  was  effected  subsequently  to  the  formation  of  the 
great  folds  referred  to  at  the  beginning  of  this  article,  which  plainly  took 
place  after  the  close  of  the  carboniferous  period,  because  strata  of  that 
period  and  those  of  later  date  are  involved. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  the  geological  date  of  the  origin  of  Luray 
Cave,  although  it  is  carved  out  of  silurian  limestone,  is  considerably 
later  than  the  close  of  the  carboniferous  period.  None  of  the  facts  yet 
ascertained  warrant  a  more  definite  conclusion  concerning  the  limits  of 
its  antiquity  than  to  say  that  the  most  recent  epoch  at  which  it  might 
have  been  formed  is  the  tertiary.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  date 
of  its  origin  is  not  more  ancient  than  that  of  the  Mammoth  Cave,  or  the 
Wyandotte  in  southern  Indiana.* 

Now  these  geological  statements  tell  one  the  relative  position  which 
the  cave  occupies  in  cosmic  history,  but  they  help  the  mind  little  in 

*  See  Scribner's  Monthly  for  April  and  October,  1880. 


208  A   COMPARISON  OF  AMERICAN   CAVERNS. 

comprehending  its  antiquity,  measured  in  years  or  even  by  centuries, 
and  serve  chiefly  to  make  our  vaporing  on  the  subject  seem  of  extremely 
small  account.  Nor  can  we  get  at  a  much  better  estimate  by  studying 
the  present  processes  of  change,  for  evidently  these  have  not  gone  on 
uniformly  since  the  beginning  —  both  erosion  and  new  growth  varying 
from  year  to  year  at  every  point,  and  proceeding  in  no  two  parts  of  the 
cave  at  exactly  the  same  rate.  The  indication's  are,  that  in  past  ages 
the  work  went  on  with  great  rapidity,  but  that  latterly  change  has  been 
very  slow,  and  at  present  has  almost  ceased. 

Leaving  the  Cathedral,  a  narrow,  jagged  passage,  where  one  must 
continually  guard  both  his  shins  and  his  crown  from  painful  bumps,  we 
get  an  outlook  down  into  a  sort  of  devil's  pantheon,  full  of  grotesque 
shapes  and  colossal  caricatures  of  things  animate  and  inanimate,  casting 
odd  and  suggestive  shadows  in  whose  gloom  fancy  may  work  marvels 
of  unworldly  effect,  and  leads  you  by  a  stairway  to  a  well-curtained  room 
called  the  Bridal  Chamber.  With  an  access  of  that  idiocy  with  which 
the  strongest  people,  perhaps,  are  tinctured  when  about  to  enter  matri- 
mony, one  or  two  couples  have  come  to  this  damp  hole  to  be  married  ; 
so  the  place  is  put  down  in  descriptions  as  "  consecrated !"  The  back 
door  of  the  Bridal  Chamber  admits  to  Giant's  Hall;  just  beyond  which 
is  the  Ballroom  —  both  large  and  lofty  apartments,  constituting  a  sepa- 
rate portion  of  the  cave,  parallel  with  the  length  of  Pluto's  Chasm.  In 
the  Ballroom  we  have  worked  back  opposite  the  entrance,  having  fol- 
lowed a  course  roughly  outlined  by  the  letter  U. 

I  have  thus  run  hastily  over  the  greater  part  of  the  ground  open  to 
the  public,  in  order  to  give  an  idea  of  its  extent  and  nomenclature.  To 
describe  each  figure  and  room  separately  is  impossible.  The  best  I  can 
do  is  to  try  to  give  some  general  notion  of  the  character  of  the  orna- 
mental formations  of  crystalline  rock  which  render  this  cave  without  a 
peer  in  the  world,  perhaps,  for  the  startling  beauty  and  astonishing  va- 
riety of  its  interior.  Some  caves  —  the  Mammoth  is  an  example — are 
completed  by  the  simple  digging  out  of  their  vaults;  no  subsequent 
growth  of  new  rock  supervenes  to  decorate  their  hard  and  changeless 
walls.  There  the  sense  of  vast  vacancy,  of  awful  silence,  of  dreadful, 
lonely  darkness,  strikes  the  heart  with  awe,  and  impresses  the  mind  by 
its  utter  intangibility.  Here  there  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  Objects  are 
near  at  hand,  suggest  familiar  forms,  and  instead  of  vague  terror  you 
feel  a  comfortable  and  lively  entertainment. 

Where  conditions  of  dryness  and  ventilation  are  favorable,  and  the 
percolation  of  water  is  just  right,  stalactites  and  stalagmites  will  form 


HOW  STALACTITES   ARE   FORMED.  209 

as  they  have  done  here,  though  rarely  in  equal  profusion  and  attractive- 
ness. Their  formation  is  simple.  Whenever,  through  some  of  the  mi- 
nute crevices  in  the  limestone  roof  or  wall,  a  drop  of  water  trickles,  it 
is  sure  to  be  saturated  with  carbonic  acid,  and  to  bear  along  with  it  a 
solution  of  lime  and  magnesia.  When  emerging  from  its  rocky  chan- 
nel it  meets  with  a  current  of  air,  it  will  evaporate  and  leave  behind  it 
minute  crystals  of  carbonate  of  lime,  deposited  in  the  form  of  a  ring, 
because,  as  the  drop  evaporated,  the  solid  matter  became  more  concen- 
trated around  its  edges  than  in  the  pendent  centre.  "  This  ring  now 
becomes  the  support  of  the  drop,  and  the  process  continues  until  a  tube 
of  the  diameter  of  the  drop,  and  from  one  to  thirty-six  inches  in  length, 
is  formed.  At  this  stage  of  its  growth  it  begins  to  fill  up,  and  the  water 
now  trickling  exteriorly  deposits  its  solid  matter  and  enlarges  it."  This 
process  forms  a  hanging  appendage  of  stone  exactly  as  icicles  grow — 
large  at  the  top,  because  the  larger  part  of  the  lime  is  deposited  before 
the  drop  reaches  the  tip,  which  nevertheless  prolongs  itself  downward 
with  never-ceasing  endeavor  to  touch  bottom. 

But,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  more  water  flows  down  a  stalactite  than 
can  be  evaporated,  and  drops  to  the  floor,  depositing,  particle  by  parti- 
cle, its  solid  matter  in  the  same  spot,  directly  underneath  the  tip  of  the 
stalactite,  until  a  column  corresponding  fairly  to  the  size  of  the  stalac- 
tite is  built  up ;  this  is  a  stalagmite.  In  time  the  upward  reach  of  the 
one  and  the  downward  stretching  of  the  other  may  join  them  into  a 
single  column,  thick  or  slender,  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling.  There 
are  many  such  pillars,  seeming  to  support  the  roof,  in  this  cave — hun- 
dreds of  them,  from  the  size  of  a  fishing-rod  (and  wonderfully  resem- 
bling a  bamboo  stick,  with  every  node  perfect)  to  that  great  column  in 
the  centre  of  Giant's  Hall,  which  is  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence and  is  ribbed  like  an  ancient  oak  or  redwood ;  pillars  representing 
all  sorts  of  architectural  style  in  base  and  capital,  for  the  sculpture-like 
growth  and  commingling  of  these  stalactites  and  crystallizations  lend 
themselves  easily  to  every  odd  design  arid  fantastic  embellishment,  which 
yet  never  seem  inharmonious. 

Though  the  simple  stalactite  will  be  circular  and  gradually  decreas- 
ing in  size,  conically,  from  its  attachment  to  its  acuminate  point,  yet  in- 
numerable variations  may  occur,  as  the  dripping  or  streaming  water  that 
feeds  it  is  diverted  from  its  direct  and  moderate  flowing.  Where  it 
runs  slowest,  but  copiously,  or  at  least  continuously,  there  most  lime  will 
be  deposited,  and  the  stony  image  will  be  built  up  to  the  prejudice  of  a 
less  favored  part.  Thus  it  happens  that  stalactites  often  become  expand- 

14 


210  GROTESQUENESS   OF  THE   DRIP-FORMATIONS. 

ed  at  their  ends  far  beyond  their  size  at  the  top,  or  take  a  slanting  line; 
then  the  stalagmite  underneath  learns  also  to  lean  in  the  same  direction, 
so  that  when  they  meet  it  will  be  at  the  intersection  of  two  angular  lines 
of  growth.  A  notable  example  of  this  process  is  seen  in  the  "  Tara's 
Harp"  and  its  snow-white  feeder. 

Chief  of  all  the  varieties,  however,  and  the  one  that  in  lavish  profu- 
sion is  to  be  seen  everywhere  in  these  caverns,  is  that  which,  by  grow- 
ing on  the  edges  only,  produces  not  a  round,  icicle  form,  vertically  pend- 
ent, but  a  wide  and  thin  laminated  or  sheet  form,  which  is  best  described 
by  its  semblance  to  heavy  cloth  hanging  in  pointed  folds  and  wrinkles, 
as  a  table-cover  arranges  itself  about  a  corner.  This  is  most  likely  to 
happen  where  the  water  flows  over  the  edge  of  a  ledge,  or  comes  down 
through  a  crack  rather  than  by  percolation  through  needle-point  aper- 
tures, or  where  it  oozes  from  the  side-walls.  Now  the  heterogeneous 
nature  of  this  limestone,  mixing  masses  of  harder  or  more  gritty  sub- 
stances with  other  fractions  of  a  softer  kind,  caused  it  to  be  eroded  lip- 
equally,  and  everywhere  enormous  angular  masses,  resting  on  a  softer-" 
substratum,  have  been  undermined  until  they  fell  to  the  floor,  stood  out 
from  the  walls  as  protruding  ledges,  or  were  cut  out  from  their 'connec- 
tion with  the  wall-rock,  and  left  standing  as  islands  to  be  coated  and  re- 
shaped and  hidden  away  under  the  glittering  panoply  which  the  gnomes 
who  did  the  work  hastened  to  throw  over  every  bit  of  common  rock 
within  their  industrious  reach.  It  is  this  channelling  through  soft  rock 
and  leaving  hard  limestone  alone ;  this  chipping  away  overhead  and  un- 
derneath a  resisting  stratum  ;  this  tumbling  heedlessly  down  and  sedu- 
lously piling  up ;  this  everlasting,  tireless  labor  after  grotesque  change 
which  is  not  yet,  nor  ever  will  be,  content — these  give  to  Luray  its  laby- 
rinthine lack  of  shape,  its  chaotic  multiplicity  of  things  completed  and 
things  half  done,  and  things  not  yet  more  than  mere  material,  which 
mark  it  to  the  imagination  as  a  workshop,  or  a  last  hasty  refuge,  or  an 
unarranged  storehouse  of  the  art-workers  of  the  underworld,  who,  sur- 
prised by  the  light  of  intruding  day  and  the  inquisitive,  commonplace 
eyes  of  men,  fled  affrighted  to  some  yet  more  profound  habitation  in 
the  depths. 

Fancy  has  taken  the  bit  in  her  teeth,  as  she  is  most  likely  to  do  down 
here ;  but  what  I  started  out  to  show  was,  that  where  ledges  and  table- 
like surfaces  were  so  abundant,  there  the  drapery  was  sure  to  form.  In 
.the  Market  it  crowds  the  terraced  walls  in  short,  thick,  whitish  fringes, 
like  so  many  fishes  hung  up  by  the  gills — "  rock-fish  "  the  guide  will  tell 
you,  as  his  little  joke.  The  Saracen  Tent  is  formed  by  these  great,  flat, 


A   REMARKABLE   DISPLAY  OF  COLOR.  211 

sharply  tipped  and  gently  curving  plates,  rich  brown  in  color,  depend- 
ing from  a  square  canopy  so  that  they  reach  the  floor,  save  on  one  side, 
where  you  may  enter  as  through  conveniently  parted  canvas.  The  Bri- 
dal Chamber  is  curtained  from  curious  gaze  with  their  massive  and  care- 
lessly graceful  folds ;  the  walls  of  Pluto's  Chasm  are  hung  with  them 
as  in  a  mighty  wardrobe ;  Diana's  Bath  is  concealed  under  their  protect- 
ing shelter ;  Titania's  Yeil  is  only  a  more  delicate  texture  of  the  same ; 
Cinderella  Leaving  the  Ball  becomes  lost  in  their  folds  as  she  glides, 
lace-white,  to  her  disrobing ;  and  a  Sleeping  Beauty  has  wrapped  these 
abundant  blankets  about  her  motionless  form ;  while  the  Ballroom  car- 
ries you  back  to  the  days  of  the  Round  Table,  for  the  spacious  walls  are 
hung  as  with  tapestries. 

^Do  not  diJcnlJcye  me  when  I  speak  of  wealth  of  color.  The  range 
is  mall,  to  be  sure^but  the  variation  of  tint  and  shade  is  infinite  and 
never  out  of  tune.  i^  painter  would  perhaps  express  it  intelligibly  to 
his  brethren  by  saying  it  was  all  a  harmony  in  brown.  The  first  crys- 
tals of  these  salts  of  lime  are  pure  white  and  translucent.  If  you  pick 
up  a  fallen  fragment  of  a  young  stalactite,  you  find  it  a  white,  delicate 
tube,  glassy  without,  spongy  within,  alabaster-like,  and  almost  transpa- 
rent. Where  water  is  continuously  flowing,  and  crystallization  at  pres- 
ent is  going  on  with  some  rapidity,  as  at  the  various  "frozen  fountains" 
and  "cascades"  —  which  look  precisely  like  the  gleaming  cataracts  of 
sunlit  ice  that  are  to  be  seen  on  high  mountains,  or  at  Niagara  in  win- 
ter—  the  surface  is  crystalline,  perfectly  white,  like  fresh  marble,  only 
more  radiant  and  ethereal,  and  sparkling  with  a  soft,  snowy  light.  Such 
is  the  lofty  and  richly  chased  Empress  Column,  the  Geyser,  the  odd  lit- 
tle Comet,  the  Spectre  that  gleams  fitfully  from  the  stygian  gloom  of 
a  seemingly  boundless  abyss,  a  thousand  alabaster  pinnacles  and  pend- 
ants scattered  here  and  there,  and  much  silvery  fretwork  on  wall  and 
monument.  But  when  the  steady  growth  ceases,  and  fresh  crystals  no 
longer  supersede  with  maiden  purity  the  debutantes  of  yesterday,  then 
the  carbonic  moisture  of  the  air  eats  away  the  glistening  particles  of 
lime,  and  leaves  behind  a  discolored  residuum  of  clay-dust  and  iron  ox- 
ides. If  this  has  gone  on  very  long,  the  object  attached  becomes  almost 
completely  decomposed  ;  you  may  push  your  penknife  to  its  hilt  into 
the  apparently  adamantine  substance  of  the  Fallen  Column.  Thus  it 
happens  that,  from  the  niveous  purity  or  pearly  surface  of  the  new  work, 
there  runs  a  gentle  gradation  through  every  stage  of  yellowish  and  whit- 
ish brown  to  the  dun  of  the  long  abandoned  and  dirty  stalagmite,  the 
leaden  gray  of  the  native  limestone,  or  the  inky  shadow  that  lurks  be- 


212  SPECTACULAR  EFFECTS. 

lurid.  It  is  thus  that  the  draped  and  folded  tapestries  in  the  Ballroom 
are  variegated  and  resplendent  in  a  thousand  hues.  Moreover,  various 
tints  are  often  combined  in  the  same  object,  particularly  in  the  way  of 
stripes  more  or  less  horizontal,  due  to  the  varying  amount  of  iron,  silica, 
or  other  foreign  matter  which  the  lime-water  contained  from  time  to^time. 

The  best  example  of  this,  and,  indeed,  of  the  "drapery  formation" 
generally,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Wet  Blanket — a  name  given  apparently 
to  dampen  enthusiasm  beforehand,  that  the  eye  may  enjoy  a  fresh  sur- 
prise. Suspended  in  a  recess  in  the  wall  of  a  small  sub-cavern  is  this  curi- 
ous stalactite,  which  perfectly  simulates  a  blanket  hung  up  after  a  wetting, 
every  wrinkle  natural  to  a  dangling  piece  of  heavy  woollen  cloth  being 
represented,  as  though  the  water  were  yet  draining  out  of  it. 

Down  in  Pluto's  Chasm,  also,  is  a  notable  group  of  stalactitic  draperies. 
"They  are  sixteen  alabaster  scarfs,"  says  a  recent  description,  "of  exqui- 
site color  and  texture.  Three  are  snow-white;  thirteen,  like  agate,  are 
striated  with  rich  bands  of  every  imaginable  shade  of  brown,  and  all  are 
translucent.  The  shape  of  each  is  that  of  one  wing  of  a  narrow  lambre- 
quin, one  edge  being  straight,  the  other  meeting  it  by  an  undulating 
curve.  The  stripes  follow  the  curve  in  every  detail.  Down  the  edge  of 
each  piece  of  drapery  trickles  a  tiny  rill,  glittering  like  silver  in  the  lamp- 
light. This  is  the  ever-plying  shuttle  that  weaves  the  fairy  fabric."  A 
balcony  has  now  been  built  right  among  them,  overlooking  the  Chasm, 
and  this  point  should  by  no  means  be  missed.  The  burning  of  magne- 
sium tape  here  brings  out,  with  the  suddenness  and  spectacular  effect  of 
the  ballet-stage,  a  thousand  grotesque  shapes  and  fanciful  outlines,  leaving 
spaces  of  darkness  between  where  the  eye  nervously  suspects  that  fright- 
ful creatures  abide.  "  The  devil !"  exclaimed  a  startled  guide,  not  long 
ago,  as,  halting  for  a  moment,  his  lights  were  suddenly  overturned  by  a 
gaunt  form  which  shot  by  his  feet ;  but  it  was  only  a  hare.  Wood-rats, 
mice,  and  bats  are  occasionally  seen.  There  are  no  snakes,  as  one  timid 
lady  was  afraid  there  might  be,  and  the  imagination  is  left  to  evolve  the 
uncanny  beasts  out  of  the  dens  of  darkness,  which  hold  no  life  in  reality 
beyond  a  few  groping  insects. 

I  have  said  that  the  edges  of  fallen  rock-masses  and  ledges  are  clothed 
with  the  drapery-stalactites.  This  works  curious  results  here  and  there  in 
the  cave,  for  two  masses  may  be  joined  together,  or,  previously  connected 
by  an  overlapping  bridge-stone,  may  both  be  surrounded  by  stalactites 
which  thus  enclose  an  open  centre,  and  bear  a  forest  of  stalagmites  on  top. 
A  large  number  of  the  pillars  are  probably  hollow,  and  are  formed  by 
the  crowding  together  of  many  drapery-stalactites,  which  finally  have  coa- 


MIMICRY   OF  VEGETABLE   GKOWTHS.  213 

lesced,  leaving  the  pillar  deeply  fluted,  or  seamed  up  and  down,  along 
their  connected  edges.  When  you  find  one  of  these  massive,  ribbed,  and 
rugged  pillars  vanishing  above  in  a  host  of  curved  stalactites,  their  thin 
and  wavy  selvages  guiding  the  eye  to  tips  which  seem  to  sway  and  quiver 
overhead,  it  is  hard  not  to  believe  it  is  an  aged  willow  turned  to  stone. 
Indeed  the  whole  scene,  in  many  parts,  is  strongly  suggestive  of  a  forest 
with  tangled  undergrowths,  thrifty  saplings,  fallen  logs,  and  crowding 
ranks  of  sturdy  trees,  under  whose  bending  limbs  and  drooping  foliage  one 
might  wander  for  miles  without  catching  the  flicker  of  a  leaf  or  hearing 
the  stir  of  any  breeze — 

"The  island  valley.  .  . 

Where  falls  not  hail  or  rain  or  any  snow, 

Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly." 

In  more  than  the  general  effect,  indeed,  the  ornamental  incrustations 
of  this  cave  mimic  the  vegetable  growths  outside.  Many  of  the  stalactites 
are  embroidered  with  small  excrescences  and  complicated  clusters  of  pro- 
truding and  twisted  points  and  flakes,  much  like  leaves,  buds,  and  twigs. 
To  these  have  been  given  the  scientific  name  of  helictites,  and  they  are 
ascribed  "  to  a  slow  crystallization  taking  place  on  a  surface  barely  moist, 
from  material  conveyed  to  the  point  of  growth  by  a  capillary  movement." 
The  grottoes  of  Stebbins  Avenue  exhibit  them  to  the  best  advantage. 

Then  there  are  the  botryoids — round  and  oblong  tubers  covered  with 
twigs  and  tubercles,  such  as  that  cauliflower-like  group  which  gives  the 
name  to  the  Vegetable  Garden  ;  these  grow  where  there  is  a  continual 
spattering  going  on.  A  process  of  decomposition,  dissolving  out  a  part 
and  leaving  a  spongy  framework  behind,  furnishes  to  many  other  districts 
quantities  of  plant-semblances,  that  you  may  name  and  name  in  endless 
distinction.  Then,  in  the  many  little  hollow  basins  or  "  baths,"  and  in 
the  bottom  of  the  gorges  where  still  water  lies,  so  crystal  clear  you  cannot 
find  its  surface  nor  estimate  its  depth — where  your  blue  magnesium-flame 
opens  a  wonderful  new  cave  beneath  your  feet  in  the  unrecognized  reflec- 
tion of  the  fretted  roof,  and  where  no  ice  is  needed  to  cool  nor  cordial 
competent  to  benefit  the  taste  of  the  beverage — there  the  hard  gray  stone 
blossoms  forth  into  multitudes  of  exquisite  flowers  of  crystallization,  with 
petals  rosy,  fawn-colored,  and  white,  that  apparently  a  breath  would  wilt. 
Have  you  seen  a  group  of  sea-anemones  in  some  tide-pool,  with  all  their 
downy  tentacles  flung  out?  That  is  like  these  motionless  corollas  of 
calcite. 

Another  freak  of  crystallization  is  the  making  of  "cave -pearls." 
They  lie,  three  or  four  together,  in  little  hollows  in  the  floor,  exactly 


214:  EVOKING  MUSICAL  TONES. 

like  so  many  eggs  in  a  sparrow's  nest.  Around  a  grain  of  sand  or  flint, 
as  a  nucleus,  accumulates  a  concretion  of  lime.  Every  falling  drop  moves 
the  grain  and  prevents  its  becoming  attached  or  growing  into  any  except 
a  globular  form  ;  thus,  under  the  proper  circumstances,  marbles  or  "pearls  " 
are  formed. 

But  I  must  cease  this  attempt  at  even  a  suggestion  of  the  possible 
variety  of  size  and  shape,  mimicry  and  quaint  device  to  be  met  with  in 
this  cavern. 

That  hard  stone  should  lend  itself  to  so  many  delicate,  graceful,  airy 
shapes  and  attitudes,  rivalling  the  flexible  flower  of  the  organic  world,  fills 
the  mind  with  astonishment  and  bewilders  the  eye.  And  when  you  have 
struck  the  thin  and  pendent  curtains,  or  the  "pipes"  of  the  Organ  in  the 
Cathedral — for  these  are  only  a  group  of  stalactites  which  have  fallen  and 
partly  buried  themselves  upright  in  the  mud — and  have  found  that  each 
has  a  rich,  deep,  musical  resonance  of  varying  pitch,  so  that  with  a  little 
study  you  could  complete  the  octaves  and  thrum  a  melody  whose  tones 
would  be  more  like  the  breathings  of  an  organ  than  the  metallic  quality 
of  piano  or  xylophone — then  your  admiration  is  complete  ;  the  denizens  of 
the  cavern  not  only  pose  but  speak.  And  how  many,  many  centuries  has 
this  museum,  or  gallery  of  the  "  playfulness  of  God,"  which  the  old  geolo- 
gists used  to  talk  of,  been  patiently  awaiting  its  disclosure  !  It  is  not  a 
place  for  thousands  of  lights  and  the  chattering  merriment  of  excur- 
sionists, with  their  flirtations  and  junketing,  but  for  silent  and  full-hearted 
delight. 

The  impressions  which  it  all  makes  upon  such  visitors  as  are  affected 
at  all  beyond  ohs !  and  ahs !  if  written  down,  would  form  very  curious 
reading.  Of  the  hundreds  that  walk  singly  through  these  catacombs,  or 
troop  after  the  brass  band  of  an  excursion,  few  have  left  any  record  by 
tongue  or  pen  ;  but  the  two  best  remembered  by  the  managers  about  sum 
up  the  whole  range  of  mental  experience  here.  Both,  curiously  enough, 
were  uttered  the  same  day.  The  first  visitor,  after  a  long  tramp,  turned 
to  Mr.  Corson,  and  speaking  slowly  and  impressively,  said,  "  I  feel  as 
though  I  must  kneel  down  and  render  homage  to  my  Creator  for  this 
exhibition  of  infinite  power."  As  the  strong  magnesium-light  lifted  the 
curtain  of  thick  darkness  in  the  Ballroom,  and  brought  out  in  an  instant 
the  far-reaching,  coruscant,  theatrical  sculpture  of  the  lofty  dome,  the 
silence  was  broken  by  the  exclamation  of  the  second  spectator:  "It 
knocks  thunder  out  of  the  Black  Crook  !" 

The  cave  has  not  yet  years  enough  to  have  gathered  about  itself  much 
human  interest;  but  before  leaving  we  must  not  forget  to  follow  down 

'  O  O 


THE  SKELETON  OF  THE  CAVE.  215 

a  long  stairway  into  a  deep  and  narrow  gulch,  where  the  dampness  and 
gloom  is  little  relieved  by  anything  to  please  the  eye.  At  the  foot  of  the 
staircase  the  guide  drops  his  lantern  close  to  a  trench-like  depression, 
through  which  a  filmy  brooklet  trickles  noiselessly.  No  need  of  inter- 
rogation— there  is  no  mistaking  that  slender,  slightly  curved,  brown  ob- 
ject, lying  there  half  out,  half  embedded  in  the  rock,  with  its  rounded  and 
bi-lobed  head,  nor  its  grooved  and  broken  companions.  They  are  not 
fallen,  small  stalactites;  they  are  human  bones.  Fit  for  the  mausoleum 
of  emperors,  what  a  vast  vault  to  become  the  sarcophagus  of  one  poor 
frame !  But  the  cave  has  guarded  its  trust  well,  for,  while  Caesar's  bones 
have  "  turned  to  clay,"  these  are  durable  as  iron. 

It  is  remembered  in  the  valley  that,  half  a  century  ago,  a  dwarf  lived 
here,  and  one  day  disappeared  from  view.  Six  or  seven  years  afterwards 
his  gun  and  shreds  of  his  overcoat  .were  discovered  in  the  woods  near  the 
entrance  to  the  old  cave,  whereupon  it  was  concluded  that  he  had  entered 
and  lost  himself.  However,  the  fact  that  additional  parts  of  the  skeleton 
are  still  buried  underneath  the  tufaceous  floor  seems  to  disprove  the 
theory  that  these  are  the  poor  dwarf's  bones,  since  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury, or  a  whole  one,  would  be  needed  to  deposit  stone  enough  to  entomb 
the  bones,  unless  we  discredit  the  evidence  of  the  present  slow  growth 
of  lime-rock  in  the  cavern.  Perhaps  the  owner  of  the  femur,  etc.,  was 
some  Indian  youth,  who,  three  or  four  hundred  years  ago,  by  accident  or 
design,  entered  these  catacombs,  and  falling  over  the  high  precipice  and 
unable  to  move  starved  to  death.* 

In  animal  and  plant  life  also  this  cave  is  singularly  deficient,  all  of 
Kentucky's  and  even  the  neighboring  Virginian  caves  furnishing  a  far 
greater  variety.  Small  spiders  are  numerous,  but  all  seem  to  belong  to 
the  single  species  Linyphia  Weyeri.  There  are  occasional  examples  of  one 
of  the  cave  flies ;  the  myriapod  tipirostrephon  Copei  (Packard),  which 
occurs  in  all  the  caverns  of  that  region  ;  and  a  new  species  peculiar  to 
this  cave,  which  has  been  named  Zygonopm  Whitei  by  Ryder,  who  de- 
scribed it  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  United  States  National  Museum, 
vol.  iii.,  p.  527.  Previous  to  receiving  living  examples,  Professor  Ryder 
had  obtained  supposed  specimens,  which,  upon  being  subjected  to  a  test 
with  acetic  acid,  proved  to  be  only  a  calcareous  crust  that  had  been 

*  Mr.  S.  Z.  Ammen,  in  his  excellent  little  guide-book,  calls  these  "the  bones  of  a  man 
— unhappy  not  to  have  possessed  a  copy  of  this  book  when  he  entered  upon  his  explora- 
tions." My  unhappiness,  on  the  contrary,  arose  from  the  fact  that  I  did  possess  it ;  for 
I  found  it  had  preempted  all  my  adjectives,  particularly  that  widely  serviceable  term, 
"weird." 


216  SUBTERRANEAN  ANIMALS  AND   PLANTS. 

deposited  over  dead  insects  lying  in  the  cave.  "  These  .  .  .  were  interest- 
ing as  showing  how  pseudomorphs  of  organic  forms  might  be  developed 
in  caverns." 

Both  of  these  species  of  myriapods  are  blind,  although  seven  other 
closely  related  species  have  the  power  of  sight,  which  leads  Professor 
Ryder  to  make  some  cautious  remarks,  a  part  of  which  I  am  persuaded 
to  quote : 

"  In  the  absence  of  proof  to  the  contrary,  with  the  increase  in  the 
number  of  known  blind  forms  which  are  often  congeneric  with  light- 
loving  species,  there  is  the  strongest  kind  of  ground  for  supposing  that 
they  have  descended  from  forms  which  had  eyes,  and  which  wandered 
into  these  recesses,  where,  after  many  generations  had  lived  and  died,  a 
blind  form  appeared,  which  resulted  from  the  gradual  abortion  of  the 
visual  organs  of  its  ancestors.  In  proof  of  this  we  have  the  partially 
blind  Orchesella,  which  now  seems  to  be  verging  towards  such  a  condi- 
tion. In  the  absence  of  a  greater  number  of  facts  we  are  not  justified 
in  inferring  more.  True,  we  have  a  few  instances  among  mollusks,  some 
of  which  in  their  larval  states  have  useful  eyes,  but  which  afterwards 
become  useless  and  abort  as  the  shell  develops  and  gets  thicker.  Some 
terrestrial  myriapods  are  blind,  such  as  Eurypauropm ;  so  is  Lurribri- 
ens,  the  earth-worm,  and  some  of  the  dirt -abiding  Tkysanura,  which 
also  live  among  fallen  leaves,  such  as  Campodea ;  while  in  the  burrow- 
ing Symphyla  (scolopendrellce)  the  eyes  are  reduced  to  a  single  pair,  with 
little  or  no  red  or  dark  coloring  in  the  tapetum,  differing  widely  in  this 
respect  from  the  compound-eyed  terrestrial  myriapods." 

A  few  bats  and  fewer  rats  make  the  entrance  portions  of  the  cave 
their  retreat ;  and  there  seerns  to  be  no  aquatic  life  in  the  pools,  which 
nowhere  form  a  stream  communicating  with  the  outer  world  so  as  to 
admit  such  denizens  as  the  strange  blind  fishes  and  crawfish  found  in 
the  Mammoth  Cave.  The  vegetation  is  chiefly,  perhaps  wholly,  repre- 
sented by  a  long  white  mould  which  collects  upon  the  under  side  of  the 
green  planks  taken  into  the  cavern  for  walks  and  stairways,  and  hangs  like 
Spanish  moss  in  quaint  imitation  of  the  ponderous  stalactites  overhead. 

Out  into  the  warm,  sweet  air  again,  all  the  world  looks  fairer  for 
one's  temporary  occultation.  Surely  the  Troglodytes  had  a  hard  lot. 
Even  the  Naiads  under  the  water,  and  the  Nereids,  though  indissoluble 
from  growing  trees,  were  better  off! 

Subsequent  to  rny  visit  to  the  caverns  of  Luray,  I  inspected  a  cave 
near  Manitou,  Colorado,  which  proved  to  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to 


UNDERNEATH  PIKE'S  PEAK.  217 

the  Virginian  cave,  and  merits  a  word  or  two  of  description.  This  one 
is  called  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  and  is  distant  from  the  Manitou  Spa 
just  a  pleasant  walk  up  Williams's  Canon,  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the 
gorges  seaming  the  base  of  the  great  peak.  The  cafion  walls  are  lime- 
stone, stained  red  and  Indian  yellow;  they  are  lofty,  vertical,  and  bro- 
ken into  a  multitude  of  bastions,  turrets,  pinnacles,  and  sweeping,  hugely 
carved  fagades,  whose  rugged  battlements  tower  hundreds  of  feet  over- 
head against  a  sky  of  violet.  At  their  bases  these  upright  walls  are  so 
close  together  that  much  of  the  way  there  is  not  room  for  one  carriage 
to  pass  another,  and  the  track  lies  nearly  always  in  the  very  bed  of  the 
sparkling  brook.  You  seein  always  in  a  cut  de  sac  among  the  zigzags 
of  this  irregular  chasm,  and  sometimes  the  abundant  foliage,  rooted  in 
the  crevices  above,  meets  in  an  arch  across  the  brightly  painted  but  nar- 
row space  you  are  tortuously  threading. 

Half  a  mile  up  the  canon,  at  the  end  of  the  roadway,  a  trail  goes  by 
frequent  turnings  about  three  hundred  feet  up  the  precipitous  sides  of 
the  ravine  to  the  foot  of  sheer  cliff.  Floundering  in  snow  up  this  steep 
and  slippery  goat-path,  we  arrived  breathless  underneath  an  archway  of 
native  rock,  giving  access  to  a  great  chimney  rising  above  a  niche  which 
serves  as  anteroom.  The  cave  proved  a  labyrinth  of  passages,  occasionally 
opening  out  into  chambers  of  irregular  size  (and  rarely  with  very  high 
ceilings),  into  which  protruded  great  ledges  and  points  of  rock  from  the 
stratified  walls,  still  further  limiting  the  space  in  which  it  is  possible  to 
move  about. 

These  passages  are  often  very  narrow,  and  frequently  you  must  stoop 
in  crowding  through,  or,  if  you  insist  upon  going  to  the  end  of  the 
route,  squirm  along,  Brahmin-like,  on  all-fours  for  several  rods  at  a  time. 
The  avenues  and  apartments  are  not  upon  the  same  level,  but  run  over 
and  under  each  other,  and  constantly  show  slender  fox-holes  branching 
off,  which  the  guide  tells  you  lead  to  some  stygian  retreat  you  have  vis- 
ited or  are  about  to  see.  Boston  Avenue  is  one  such  passage,  partly  arti- 
ficial, between  Canopy  Hall  and  another  large  chamber,  originally  sepa- 
rated at  that  point  by  a  thin  wall  of  clay.  Chicago  Avenue  is  another 
side-squeezing  but  very  pretty  channel  which  forms  part  of  the  regular 
four  hours'  walk  through  the  cave;  for  if  one  is  to  "do"  the  whole  of 
the  nearly  one  hundred  chambers  already  discovered,  it  will  take  him 
fully  that  length  of  time.  Often  the  end  of  one  of  these  tortuous  un- 
derground crevices,  or  passage-ways,  is  found  in  a  round  sink,  like  one 
of  the  great  "  pot-holes"  sometimes  occurring  in  a  river-bottom,  and  the 
like  of  which  I  have  never  seen  in  any  other  cave.  Many  of  the  pro- 


218  AN  UNDERGROUND  LABYRINTH. 

trading  ledges,  especially  in  Canopy  Hall,  are  thus  perforated,  and  the 
guide  will  say  that  they  were  ground  out  by  revolving  pebbles;  but  it 
is  easy  to  show  the  error  of  this,  and  demonstrate  that  the  slow  action 
of  water  and  the  atmospheric  agents  that  have  cut  the  rest  of  the  cav- 
ern are  also  responsible  for  the  "  pot-holes."  Instead,  there  will  some- 
times yawn  at  your  feet,  in  a  way  likely  to  startle  you,  a  squarish  chasm, 
or  the  path  will  end  in  the  side  of  a  vertical  chimney,  seeming  endless 
as  you  attempt  to  make  your  candle-beams  penetrate  the  thick  darkness 
which  fills  the  shaft  above  and  below. 

Through  several  such  chimneys  or  shafts  you  follow  your  guide  in 
climbing  long  ladders  or  stairways  up  to  a  higher  or  down  to  a  lower  level. 
Clinging  to  the  spidery  supports  with  only  a  little  halo  of  light  about 
you,  both  ends  of  the  ladder  or  the  slender  bridge  hidden  from  view,  and 
thus  apparently  unsupported,  you  thrill  with  a  sense  of  romantic  peril, 
and  take  extraordinary  interest  in  what  the  guide  is  telling  of  his  first 
exploration  of  this  subterranean  maze,  when  there  was  no  route  to  be 
followed,  nor  even  a  ladder  to  assist  his  going  about ;  you  wonder  more 
and  more  not  only  how  such  a  labyrinth  ever  was  explored,  but  how  its 
passages  can  be  remembered  even  with  daily  practice.  I  can  best  picture 
the  tortuous  complexity  of  underground  shafts  and  tunnels,  cracks  and 
crannies,  by  asking  you  to  imagine  the  atmosphere  a  solid,  and  yourself 
some  pygmy  following  the  tangled  and  criss-crossed  interior  of  the  thickly 
branching  twigs  of  a  tree.  However,  in  remote  portions  of  the  cave, 
there  exist  very  large  rooms.  One  of  these  is  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
long,  and  of  varying  width.  Another  would  be  large  were  it  not  encum- 
bered by  fallen  masses  and  by  drip- stone  pillars  which  are  vertically 
ribbed.  A  third  room,  the  biggest  of  all,  measures  four  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  length,  and  is  wide  at  each  end,  but  narrows,  hour-glass  fashion, 
in  the  middle.  The  coiling  of  this  chamber  is  so  high  that  no  candle- 
flame,  or  even  magnesium-light,  has  ever  been  strong  enough  to  bring  it 
into  view,  and  the  echoes  are  remarkable.  In  the  greater  part  of  the 
cave,  however,  one  must  continually  stoop  and  dodge  to  avoid  contact 
with  the  sidewalls  or  the  ceiling. 

It  is  to  the  ornamentation  that  I  wish  particularly  to  call  attention. 
This  exactly  resembles  that  at  Luray,  except  that  it  is  upon  a  much 
smaller  scale ;  the  largest  drip-formed  pillars  in  the  Colorado  cave  are  said 
to  be  not  more  than  twenty  feet  in  height,  and  few  in  number.  Both 
stalactites  and  stalagmites  are  small,  and  hang  in  rows  from  overhanging 
ledges,  like  icicles  on  eaves  in  winter.  There  are  also  few  stalagmites, 
showing  that  generally  the  dripping  has  been  sufficiently  slow  to  allow 


BEAUTIFUL  INCRUSTATIONS  OF  LIMESTONE.  219 

of  the  evaporation  of  all  the  water  before  it  accumulated  in  too  heavy 
a  drop  on  the  tip  of  the  pendant  that  its  burden  of  lime  was  building  out. 

This  varied  greatly,  however,  in  different  parts  of  the  cave ;  some 
rooms,  for  example,  those  near  the  entrance,  are  almost  utterly  bare,  or 
adorned  only  with  fungoid  tufts  of  pure  clay,  which  remained  after  the 
solid  matrix  had  disappeared.  On  the  other  hand,  so  profuse  had  been 
the  discharge  of  water  over  several  ledges  that  the  native  rock  is  wholly 
concealed  under  a  great  "  frozen  cascade"  of  deposited  material — alabas- 
ter-white, crystalline,  sparkling —  which  well  simulates  ice.  Elsewhere 
there  is  abundant  proof  that  the  water  dripped  rapidly  and  spattered, 
producing  those  curious  botryoidal  cauliflower-like  masses  called  "  vege- 
table gardens."  This  was  like  Luray,  as  also  was  the  tendency  observable 
everywhere — though  rarely  well  carried  out — towards  the  curtain  or  rib- 
bon-like "  drapery  "  form  of  stalactite,  whose  gracefully  pendent  corners 
make  the  Virginia  cavern  so  strangely  attractive.  Much  less  wall-rock 
and  ceiling  is  hidden  under  these  water-built  accretions,  however,  here 
than  at  Luray — showing,  probably,  that  at  no  time  was  there  so  much 
water  present  in  the  rocks  as  found  its  way  through  the  Virginian  cata- 
comb. The  relatively  smaller  size  of  all  the  excavations  at  Manitou  would 
confirm  this  explanation  of  a  condition  which  might  be  expected  in  this 
dryer  climate  and  superior  altitude. 

In  one  respect  this  cave  far  surpasses  in  beauty  its  Eastern  prototype. 
The  floors  of  many  rooms  are  laid  several  inches  deep  with  incrustations 
of  lime-work,  which  is  embroidered  in  raised  ridges  of  exquisite  carving. 
Again,  where  water  has  been  caught  in  depressions,  these  basins  have 
been  lined  with  a  continuous,  crowding  plush  of  minute  lime  crystals, 
like  small  tufted  cushions  of  yellow  and  white  moss.  Such  depressed 
patches  occur  frequently;  moreover,  the  rapid  evaporation  of  these  pools, 
in  confined  spaces,  has  so  surcharged  the  air  with  carbonated  moisture 
that  particles  of  lime  have  been  deposited  on  the  walls  of  the  pocket  in 
a  thousand  dainty  and  delicate  forms  —  tiny  stalactites  and  bunches  of 
stone  twigs — until  you  fancy  the  most  airy  of  milleporic  corals  transferred 
to  these  recesses.  Here  often  the  air  seems  foggy  as  your  lamp-rays 
strike  it,  and  the  growing  filigree  work  gleams  alabaster-white  under  the 
spray  that  is  producing  its  weird  and  exquisite  growth.  In  this  form 
of  minute  and  frost-like  ornamentation,  to  which  the  most  skilled  work  of 
the  silversmith  would  bear  no  comparison,  and  where  the  flowers  of  the 
hot-house,  or  the  brilliantly  tentacled  dwellers  in  some  sunny  tide-cove 
would  find  their  delicate  beauty  surpassed,  this  Colorado  cavern  excels 
anything  I  know  of  anywhere. 


220  TRANSLUCENT  AND  RESONANT  STALACTITES. 

The  most  profusely  ornamented  part  of  the  cave  is  that  included  in 
Music  Hall,  Alabaster  Hall  and  Grotto,  the  Bridal  Chamber,  and  the  Din- 
ing-room. Music  Hall,  a  chamber  fifty  feet  long,  with  a  level  floor,  even 
sides,  and  a  high-arched  ceiling,  takes  its  name  from  the  musical  tones 
produced  by  gently  striking  the  resonant,  vibratory  stalactites.  Quaint 
imitative  devices  occur  in  the  abundant  excrescences  here,  while  one  end 
of  the  hall  is  a  perfect  little  jungle  of  stalactites  and  stalagmites.  Many 
of  the  specimens  here  do  not  taper,  but  have  grown  from  their  interiors 
by  the  water  which  trickled  through,  leaving  successive  rings  at  the 
mouth  of  the  slender  pendent  tube,  are  of  exactly  the  same  diameter 
throughout,  and,  having  grown  rapidly,  have  not  had  time  to  waste  into 
the  clay-stained  condition  of  the  older  formations,  but  remain  beautifully 
translucent,  as  you  may  see  by  holding  your  yellow  candle-flame  behind 
them.  Alabaster  Hall  and  the  Grotto  are  treasure-nooks,  lavishly  orna- 
mented in  every  pattern  of  cave  art. 

I  have  said  enough  to  show,  I  think,  that  in  the  Pike's  Peak  cave, 
which  seems  to  belong  to  the  same  geological  age  as  its  eastern  type,  the 
conditions  of  excavation  were  substantially  the  same  as  in  the  Virginian 
"  Wonder,"  and  that  consequently  the  same  kind  of  spaces  in  the  lime- 
stone rock  are  found  in  both,  and  the  same  sort  of  interior  decoration : 
with  this  important  difference,  however,  that  the  far  greater  supply  of 
water  in  one  has  carved  out  vastly  more  spacious  rooms,  and  furnished 
the  transportation  for  an  immensely  greater  mass  of  material  into  the 
secondary  formations  of  both  pendent  and  piled  up  drip-rock. 


XX, 

THE  ABALONE  AND  ITS  UTILITY. 

T}ROBABLY  of  all  the  "shell-fish"  of  the  Union,  after  the  oysters, 
-*-  clams,  and  the  scallop,  none  holds  a  more  important  place  commer- 
cially than  the  ear-shells,  or  abalones ;  and  if  edible  properties  are  not 
made  the  scale  of  judgment,  then  they  hold  the  first  place.  The  ear- 
shells  belong  to  the  conchological  genus  Haliotis,  and  there  are  nearly  a 
hundred  species  of  them  scattered  about  the  world,  our  own  Atlantic 
shore  being  almost  the  only  coast  where  the  haliotis  is  not  represented. 
In  many  countries  the  flesh  of  this  animal  is  eaten,  and  everywhere  its 
shell  is  highly  valued. 

In  Europe  one  of  the  localities  most  populous  in  haliotis  is  the  Chan- 
nel Islands,  where  they  are  called  "  orrner  shells,"  said  to  be  a  corruption 
of  the  French  oreille  de  mer  •  perhaps  the  popular  name  seen  in  the  books 
of  old  English  writers,  "  Norman  shell,"  is  equally  a  transformation  from 
the  French.  Jeffreys  says  that  the  Cherbourg  fishwornen  call  them  "six 
yeux"  (six  eyes),  from  an  idea  that  the  orifices  in  the  shell  are  real  eyelets 
or  peep-holes.  "  Venus's  ear"  and  "sea-ear"  are  names  derived  from  the 
form  of  the  shell,  which  is  copied  in  the  Greek  technical  name  riXiwrig. 

"  The  people  of  Guernsey  and  Jersey,"  says  Simmonds,  in  his  Com- 
mercial Products  of  the  Sea,  "  ornament  their  houses  with  the  shells  of  the 
ormer,  disposing  them  frequently  in  quincunx  order,  and  placing  them  so 
that  their  bright  interiors  may  catch  the  rays  of  the  sun."  Could  any 
decoration  or  frescoing  be  prettier,  albeit  somewhat  grotesque?  Not  con- 
tent with  this,  the  farmers  hang  bunches  of  them  on  top  of  poles  in  their 
grain-fields  to  dangle  about  and  shoot  lances  of  reflected  light  from  their 
scintillating  surfaces  at  timid  but  thieving  birds. 

In  southern  California  the  gathering  of  haliotis  affords  employment 
to  a  large  number  of  persons,  and  a  considerable  commerce  has  sprung 
up.  There  the  mollusk  is  called  "  abalone" — a  word  of  doubtful  Spanish- 
Indian  derivation,  apparently  having  reference  to  the  beads  which  Indians 
were  wont  to  fabricate  from  this  shell.  The  business  is  chiefly  in  the 


222  HABITS  AND   HABITAT   OF  HALIOTIS. 

hands  of  Chinese,  and  that  it  should  be  so  is  very  natural.  At  home  the 
Chinese  were,  and  yet  are,  accustomed  to  dry  the  flesh  of  their  own  hali- 
otis  (which  is  abundant  from  Malaya  to  Kamtchatka)  as  a  food  luxury. 
Finding  in  California  practically  the  same  mollusk,  they  at  once  began 
to  gather  the  abalones  for  the  sake  of  the  meat,  the  surplusage  of  which 
they  dried  in  salt,  and  shipped  home  to  China  at  a  good  profit.  After 
a  time  white  men  began  to  pick  up  the  shells  thrown  away,  and  to  work 
them  over  into  ornaments  and  objects  of  jewellery.  Thus  apprised  of 
their  value,  the  Chinamen  also  saved  all  the  shells  they  got,  and  soon 
found  this  half  of  the  catch  brought  more  money  than  the  dried  flesh. 
For  three  or  four  years  past  the  business  in  these  shells  has  been  exten- 
sive, but  fears  are  felt  that  the  mollusks  may  soon  become  exterminated. 

The  abalone  producing  region  extends  from  San  Francisco  to  Lower 
California,  San  Diego  being  the  principal  depot  outside  of  the  capital, 
receiving  stock  largely  from  Mexican  waters.  For  a  long  time  Mexico 
paid  no  attention  to  this  trespass  upon  her  shores,  but  now  she  charges 
a  license  duty  upon  every  abalone  boat  from  the  United  States. 

Abalones  thrive  best  among  rocky,  weed-grown  crags  or  reefs  alter- 
nately exposed  and  submerged  with  every  tide,  and  in  a  warm  climate. 
They  are  not  carnivorous,  but  subsist  upon  the  sea  vegetables,  of  which 
there  is  always  an  abundance  in  such  places.  Their  fleshy  base,  or  "  foot," 
upon  which  the  convex,  ear-shaped  shell  is  carried,  concealing  and  pro- 
tecting the  vital  organs,  is  "  very  large,  rounded  at  the  ends,  and  fringed 
with  thread-like  tentaculae,  which,  when  the  animal  is  protruded  from  the 
shell  below  the  surface  of  the  water,  are  gently  swayed." 

They  move  very  little,  and  with  great  moderation  of  gait.  The  broad 
muscular  foot  is  adapted  less  to  locomotion  than  for  adhesion,  and  so 
strong  is  the  force  with  which  they  cling  to  the  rock — withdrawing  their 
protracted  lobes,  and  squatting  flat  down  at  the  least  disturbance — that 
often  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  detach  them,  even  with  the  aid  of  the 
trowel  or  spade  which  is  usually  carried  by  the  fishermen.  Another 
method  is  to  pour  over  them  a  small  quantity  of  warm  water,  and  then 
give  a  sharp  push  sideways  with  the  foot.  The  warm  douche  surprises 
and  disgusts  them  into  relaxation. 

There  is  a  grisly  yarn  (now  of  respectable  antiquity)  about  a  poor 
Chinaman  who  discovered  a  large  abalone  left  bare  by  the  tide,  and  partly 
exposing  its  mantle-lobes  beneath  the  edge  of  its  shell.  The  man  had  no 
spade  or  hot  water  with  him,  but  attempted  to  tear  the  mollusk  up  with 
his  bare  hands.  No  sooner  did  the  abalone  feel  his  touch  than  it  shut 
down,  pinching  the  Celestial's  fingers  between  its  shell  and  the  rock  so 


PRESERVING  THE  ANIMAL  AS  FOOD. 


223 


tightly  that  he  could  not  pull  them  away  before  the  tide,  advancing  with 
cruel  speed,  had  drowned  the  poor  wretch  in  the  creature's  relentless 
clutch.  Whether  or  not  this  be  an  "ow'r-true  tale,"  it  well  illustrates  the 
strength  with  which  the  haliotis  holds  to  its  site — a  power  of  anchorage 
needed  when  storms  beat  upon  its  native  reef  with  almost  resistless  force. 
The  tenacity  of  life  in  this  mollusk  seems  equal  to  its  hold  upon  the 
rocks.  R.  E.  C.  Stearns,  of  San  Francisco,  writes  that  he  has  frequently 
removed  the  animal  from  the  shell  by  means  of  a  sharp  knife,  and  thrown 
it  back  into  the  water,  when  "  it  would  at  once  descend  and  place  itself 
in  its  normal  position  upon  a  rock,  to  which  it  would  adhere  with  appar- 
ently as  much  tenacity  as  before  it  was  deprived  of  its  shelly  covering." 


THE  ABALONE,  FULLY  EXPANDED. 

The  flesh  of  the  abalone  has  long  formed  an  article  of  food  in  various 
parts  of  the  world,  such  as  the  Channel  Islands,  France,  along  the  Medi- 
terranean (where  they  beat  it  to  make  it  tender),  Senegal,  the  South  Sea 
Islands,  Malaya,  China,  Japan,  and  our  Pacific  coast.  It  was  described 
by  old  Atheneeus,  centuries  and  centuries  ago,  as  "exceedingly  nutritious, 
but  indigestible,"  and  holds  its  reputation  well.  A  gentleman  who  lately 
ate  it  in  Japan  said  his  first  mouthful  seemed  as  tough  and  tasteless  as 
so  much  india-rubber,  but  that  presently  the  morsel  dissolved  into  gran- 
ules and  could  be  swallowed,  developing  a  flavor  not  unpleasant.  Mexico 
exports  it  to  us  under  the  Custom-house  heading,  "dried  oysters."  In 
San  Francisco  and  the  coast  towns  it  is  rarely  eaten  except  by  Chinese, 
who  are  the  only  ones  that  gather  it.  A  simple  process  of  salting  and 
drying  is  all  that  is  necessary  for  its  preservation,  in  which  shape  it  is 
sent  to  China.  In  order  to  get  a  ton  of  meat,  about  six  tons  of  living 


224  TURNING  THE  HALIOTIS  TO  PRIESTLY  SERVICE. 

animals  must  be  collected,  but  there  is  no  telling  how  many  individuals 
this  represents.  After  being  cured,  abalone  meat  is  worth  from  five  to 
ten  cents  a  pound,  arid  the  value  of  the  crop  which  reaches  San  Francisco 
annually  approaches  $40,000,  distributed  among  some  hundreds  of  men. 
The  coast  is  now  so  stripped  of  the  haliotis  that  the  Chinese  fishermen 
are  compelled  to  resort  to  unfrequented  islands,  transportation  to  which 
is  afforded  them  by  Americans,  who  take  their  pay  in  shells,  while  the 
Chinese  retain  the  meat. 

The  trade  in  abalone-shells,  indeed,  is  of  twice  as  much  importance, 
financially,  as  that  in  the  flesh,  since  it  amounts  to  nearly  $90,000  a  year. 
Some  Americans  also  are  engaged  in  this  business,  and  the  finishing  off 
of  the  shells  for  market  is  wholly  in  their  hands. 

The  shell  of  the  haliotis  is  one  of  the  most  brilliantly  beautiful  in 
its  interior  of  any  known.  The  lustrous,  iridescent  curves  of  the  nacre, 
reflecting  ever-varying  and  prismatic  colors  in  endless  profusion,  delight 
every  eye.  In  aged  specimens  the  part  to  which  the  adductor  muscle  is 
attached  is  raised  above  the  level  of  the  rest  of  the  interior,  and  presents 
a  roughened  or  carved  surface  of  irregular  shape,  often  fancifully  imita- 
tive of  some  other  object.  The  writer  has  seen  one  which  thus  contained 
a  singularly  correct  profile  or  medallion  of  Napoleon  I. 

Eastern  ingenuity,  combined  with  the  close  observation  which  in  some 
directions  make  the  Chinese  and  Japanese  eminent,  has  cleverly  utilized 
the  extraordinary  power  of  secreting  nacre  possessed  by  this  mollusk. 
It  was  observed  that  whenever  a  grain  of  sand  or  any  other  small  foreign 
substance  worked  its  way  between  the  shell  and  the  mantle,  the  mollusk 
would  speedily  cover  it  with  a  pearly  coat.  This  is  the  origin  of  pearls; 
and  all  bivalves  do  the  same  thing,  but  few  are  so  large  or  supply  the 
pearl  so  copiously  as  does  our  subject. 

It  occurred  to  the  ingenious  Chinaman  that  if  he  were  to  slip  small 
figures  of  his  own  making  underneath  the  abalone's  armor,  he  could 
presently  take  them  away  beautifully  empearled.  This  has  often  been 
done  in  the  past  and  present ;  and  priests  have  advanced  their  doctrines 
in  the  faith  of  simple  peasants  by  producing  in  this  way  (which  they  did 
not  explain)  pearl  images  of  Buddha  and  other  saints,  and  selling  the 
same  at  a  high  price — advertising  them  as  Nature's  signets,  miraculously 
impressed  in  divine  attestation  of  the  truth  of  their  creed. 

Outside,  the  shells  are  usually  rough  and  unattractive,  except  to  the 
marine  zoologist,  who  finds  them  supporting  a  small  forest  of  minute 
vegetable  and  animal  forms,  and  harboring  microscopic  life  of  great 
interest.  A  curious  case  of  a  larger  parasite  is  mentioned  by  Mr.  Stearns, 


UTILIZATION   OF   AB ALONE   SHELLS.  225 

where  a  haliotis  had  been  attacked  by  another  mollusk — a  boring  bivalve 
known  a&.Navea  which  had  cut  its  way  through  the  shell.  Advised  of 
this  enemy,  the  lialiotis  had  defended  itself  by  adding  coating  upon 
coating  of  nacre  as  a  bulwark  between  him  and  his  foe,  until,  as  the 
Navea  progressed,  a  large  knob  was  built  in  the  interior  of  the  abalone's 
shell. 

The  shells  are  usually  sent  to  San  Francisco  from  the  lower  counties 
of  California  in  the  rough,  and  are  the  means  of  considerable  speculation 
among  coasting  captains.  The  price  paid  for  them  by  merchants  varies 
greatly ;  an  average  at  present  would  be  $50  or  $60  a  ton.  From  San 
Francisco  they  are  shipped  both  to  China  and  to  the  Eastern  States.  In 
China  they  are  broken  up  and  used  for  inlaying  in  connection  with  the 
lacquer-work  for  which  the  Chinese  are  famous.  The  mosaics  of  Europe 
are  often  adorned  by  the  same  means,  and  various  arts  are  served  by  their 
glittering  fragments.  It  was  with  pieces  of  this  sort  of  shell  that  those 
wonderfully  beautiful  inlaid  screens  from  Holland,  representing  moon- 
light landscapes,  etc.,  which  attracted  so  much  attention  at  the  Centennial 
Exhibition,  were  produced. 

Many  of  our  shells  are  sent  to  Europe,  there  to  be  polished  with  the 
help  of  acids  until  they  shall  be  as  lustrous  outwardly  as  inside,  and  then 
are  reshipped  to  the  United  States  to  serve  as  mantel  ornaments,  soap- 
basins,  match-boxes,  card-cases,  receptacles  for  flowers,  etc.  The  same 
work  is  done  to  some  extent  in  San  Francisco,  and  many  are  there  manu- 
factured into  gold-mounted  ear-rings  and  brooches,  shawl-pins,  and  various 
toilet  articles,  particularly  ladies'  high  hair-combs  of  great  costliness,  if 
not  invariably  of  equal  elegance. 

One  dealer,  also,  at  San  Diego,  California,  polishes  these  shells  him- 
self, and  sells  them  to  tourists  for  from  twenty-five  cents  to  five  dollars, 
or  sends  them  to  the  East  by  mail  in  "nests"  of  four  to  six.  The  young 
of  one  sort  are  cleaned  with  the  aid  of  hydrochloric  acid,  but  the  usual 
method  with  aged  shells  is  to  grind  away  the  epidermis  by  hand  by  rub- 
bing upon  stones.  It  is  too  delicate  work  to  trust  to  machinery,  lest  holes 
should  be  made  in  the  thin  pearly  underlayers. 

A  peculiarity  of  haliotis  shells  is  the  line  of  four  to  ten  round  holes 
along  the  ridge  at  one  side.  It  is  through  these  apertures  that  the  mol- 
lusk  gets  the  fresh  water  necessary  to  its  breathing  when  it  sits  close 
down  upon  a  rock,  and  when  none  can  flow  in  under  the  edges  of  the 
tight  shell.  A  similar  provision  exists  in  the  "key-hole"  of  the  limpet, 
and  in  the  "notch"  in  the  shelly  lip  of  a  large  number  of  whorled  shells, 
like  the  whelk,  conch,  etc.  Through  these  holes,  when  the  animal  is 

15 


226         VALUE  OF  THE  ABALONE  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

expanded,  are  protruded  tiny  waving  feelers  that  warn  him  of  the  ap- 
proach of  any  danger  in  time  to  withdraw  underneath  his  shield. 

To  the  Indians  of  California  the  haliotis  was  very  valuable.  They 
wore  it  as  an  ornament  about  their  necks  and  in  their  hair.  The  tribes 
of  the  interior  were  so  attracted  by  its  glitter  that  they  were  willing  to 
pay  a  large  price  in  barter  to  possess  it.  A  horse  was  not  an  infrequent 
exchange  for  a  fine  specimen.  I  have  seen  these  shells,  rudely  polished, 
dangling  in  the  braids  of  Indian  braves,  and  around  the  necks  of  vainglo- 
rious squaws  of  every  tribe  from  New  Mexico  northward  to  the  far  upper 
Missouri  plains.  Recent  explorations  in  the  prehistoric  mounds  of  the 
Ohio  Valley  show  that  this  shell  was  possessed  by  many  families  of  the 
builders  who  buried  them  in  the  graves  of  friends ;  yet  it  is  not  at  all 
strange  that  they  should  have  travelled  so  far,  when  we  recall  the  sys- 
tematically conducted  trading  carried  on  among  the  red  men,  and  the 
distances  some  of  their  traders  are  known  to  have  wandered. 

By  stopping  the  holes,  this  dish-shaped  shell  became  useful  as  a  recep- 
tacle. Where  it  was  common  it  served  in  this  way  all  sorts  of  household 
purposes ;  but  in  the  interior  it  was  devoted  chiefly  to  the  more  select 
purpose  of  preserving  paint -earths  and  valuable  trinkets.  The  heavier 
ones  were  sometimes  broken  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  mounted  upon  han- 
dles, hatchet  -  wise,  and,  in  the  shape  of  cleavers  or  bludgeons,  became 
formidable  weapons  in  the  hands  of  savage  warriors. 

The  chief  utility  of  the  abalone,  however,  was  as  the  principal  material 
out  of  which  the  natives  of  the  southern  part  of  California  fabricated 
their  ornament-coins  which  served  as  money,  and  the  making  of  which 
is  described  in  an  ensuing  chapter. 


XXL 

THE   SHELL-MONEY  OF  THE  NATIVE   AMERICANS. 

use  of  a  circulating  medium  to  facilitate  commerce  by  simplifying 
the  awkward  devices  of  barter  is  supposed  to  indicate  a  considerable 
advance  towards  civilization  in  the  people  employing  it.  On  this  score 
the  North  American  Indians  ought  to  stand  high  in  the  list  of  barbarians, 
since  they  possessed  an  aboriginal  money  of  recognized  value,  although 
it  had  no  sanction  other  than  common  custom.  This  money  was  made 
from  sea-shells,  and  was  known  by  various  names,  of  which  one — wam- 
pum— has  survived  popularly,  though  in  a  somewhat  changed  shape;  for 
while  it  originally  meant  a  particular  kind,  it  is  now  used  as  an  American 
word  to  designate  all  varieties  of  shell  beads  and  money. 

Sea-shells,  indeed,  seem  to  have  commended  themselves  for  this  pur- 
pose to  widely  different  peoples.  The  great  circulation  which  the  cowry- 
shell  (Cypraza  moneta)  attained  in  tropical  Africa,  India,  and  the  South 
Sea  islands,  will  occur  to  the  reader.  It  was  once  the  coin  of  those 
regions  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else  in  trading  with  the  savages, 
and  ships  going  after  cargoes  of  ivory,  palm-oil,  sandal-wood  and  similar 
products,  were  obliged  first  to  provide  themselves  with  cargoes  of  cowries 
at  Zanzibar  or  some  other  port  where  they  could  be  bought.  This  small 
shell,  smooth,  shining,  easily  perforated,  not  too  common,  was  the  most 
suitable  thing  for  the  purpose  that  could  have  been  found.  It  could  not 
be  produced  artificially,  or  counterfeited,  or  acquired  without  considerable 
exertion.  It  therefore  represented  an  expenditure  of  labor  on  the  part 
of  its  possessor,  and  became  at  once  a  purchasing  power.  No  alterations 
were  made  to  the  CyprcBa,  except  to  punch  a  small  hole  in  it  when  it 
was  desired  to  put  a  thread  through  ;  and  in  this  respect  the  Dentalium, 
which,  as  we  shall  see,  served  as  money  among  the  Indians  of  the  Oregon 
coast,  resembled  it  —  that  shell  being  easily  strung,  and  therefore  used 
whole. 

The  importance  of  the  cowry  (Cyprma  moneta)  is  shown  by  the  statis- 
tics of  commerce  during  the  present  century.  In  18tt3  it  was  recorded 


THE   COWRY  CURRENCY  OF  AFRICA  AND   INDIA. 


that  this  shell  was  the  current  coin  of  Bengal,  but  it  required  3200  to 
equal  a  rupee — about  fifty  cents.  Between  1850  and  1855  more  than  a 
thousand  cwt.  on  the  average  were  imported  into  Liverpool,  to  be  used  in 
the  African  trade,  these  coming  from  the  Mediterranean  and  Indian  Seas. 
Some  portions  of  Africa,  again,  export  cowries  to  India.  To  get  them 
at  Zanzibar  several  ships  go  annually  from  Hamburg,  and  having  loaded, 
proceed  to  the  west  coast  of  Africa  for  the  purchase  of  palm-oil  or  other 
produce.  In  1870  over  50,000  cwt.  were  imported  into  Sagos  alone,  under 
a  duty  of  one  shilling  per  cwt.  This  import  is  diminishing.  "Their 
relative  currency  varies  in  different  localities.  In  British  India  about 
4000  pass  for  a  shilling,  and  the  erection  of  a  church,  which  cost  £4000, 
is  said  to  have  been  paid  for  entirely  with  cowries.  The  ordinary  grada- 
tion or  value  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa  is  as  follows: 


40  cowries  =  1  string. 
24  strings    =  Id. 
100  cowries  =  Id. 
50  strings   =  1  head  of  cowries. 


10  heads     =  1  bag. 
2000  cowries  =  1  head. 
3  heads     =  1  dollar. 
20,000  cowries  =  1  bag. 


"  In  other  places  they  are  valued  at  about  Is.  3d.  the  1000.  Sometimes 
60,000  to  100,000  (or  from  £3  15s-.  to  £7  10s.)  are  given  for  a  young  wife, 
while  a  more  common  or  ordinary  wife  may  be  had  for  20,000  cowries  or 
25s.  In  Soudan,  much  as  the  people  trade,  they  have  no  other  currency 
than  the  cowry,  of  which  2000  shells,  weighing  from  five  to  seven  pounds, 
are  worth  only  one  dollar.  Since  the  recent  expansion  of  traffic  in  that 
country  the  cowry  currency  has  already  become  an  intolerable  burden.  .  .  . 
Although  completely  depreciated  in  the  territory  of  the  Upper  Nile,  cow- 
ries still  form  among  the  Miltoo  tribes,  between  5°  and  6°  North  latitude, 
a  favorite  ornament. 

"  Cowry  shells  are  also  ...  in  circulation  as  money  in  the  Hyderabad 
State,  and  in  other  parts  of  India. 

"  The  valuable  cargoes  of  sandal-wood  obtained  in  some  of  the  Pacific 
Islands  for  the  China  market  are,  in  the  first  instance,  purchased  from  the 
New  Hebrides  by  means  of  a  shell  —  the  Ovulum  angulosum,  a  white 
porcelainous  variety  of  cowry  with  a  violet-colored  lip — which  is  found 
in  the  Friendly  Islands  but  never  in  the  sandal-wood  regions.  This 
shell  is  so  highly  esteemed  as  an  ornament  by  the  natives  of  the  New 
Hebrides  that  for  one  shell  they  will  give  in  exchange  a  ton  of  sandal- 
wood.  The  trading  captains  go  expressly  to  the  Tongan  Archipelago  for 
the  shells,  where  they  sell  at  a  Spanish  dollar  each." 

A  recent  traveller  who. visited  the  Solomon  Islands  (The  Field^  April 


ORIGIN  OF  AMERICAN   SHELL-MONEY.  229 

22,  1882,  p.  524)  says  that  in  that  group  the  regular  currency  consists  of 
native  beads,  red  and  white,  called  makira  (Makira  being  a  large  bay  and 
district  at  San  Christoval),  and  malayta  money,  the  latter  a  kind  much 
smaller  than  the  former.  Makira  money  is  not  unlike  the  segment  of  the 
backbone  of  a  small  fish,  and  is  made  from  small  shells  ground  to  proper 
size  and  smothness ;  the  making  of  this,  a  slow  process,  is  the  employment 
of  the  women,  who,  after  its  manufacture,  string  it  together  by  the  hole 
which  exists  in  the  centre.  For  small  change  they  use  the  teeth  of  the 
dog  and  the  flying-fox  (Pteropus),  two  of  the  former  and  four  of  the 
latter  equalling  one  makira. 

This  approaches  nearer  than  does  the  cowry  currency  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  American  shell-money  of  the  eastern  coast ;  for,  whereas  all  that 
was  required  to  turn  a  cowry  into  a  coin  was  to  find  it  and  punch  a  small 
hole  in  it,  both  rnakira  and  wampum  were  a  distinct  advance  upon  this, 
since  they  were  manufactured  articles.  In  addition  to  the  exertion  of 
securing  the  rnollusk's  shell,  there  \vas  a  large  expenditure  of  labor 
in  fashioning  the  bead  which  acted  as  a  coin.  Lindstrom,  a  Swedish 
engineer,  says  (in  Smith's  "  History  of  New  Jersey ")  that  an  Indian's 
utmost  manufacture  amounted  only  to  a  few  pence  a  day ;  and  all  writers 
enlarge  upon  the  great  labor  and  patience  needed  to  make  it,  especially 
at  the  South.  Hence  the  purchasing  power  of  a  wampum  bead  was  far 
in  advance  of  that  of  a  cowry,  a  dentalium  of  the  Pacific  coast,  or  any 
other  unwrought  shell  used  as  money. 

The  origin  of  American  shell-money  may  be  taken  to  have  been  some- 
what as  follows :  Shells,  by  their  pretty  shape  and  bright  colors,  attracted 
the  eye  of  the  savage,  who,  finding  them  easy  to  suspend  about  his  cloth- 
ing, employed  them  as  ornaments.  Only  those  tribes  living  on  the 
shores  of  the  ocean  could  obtain  these  shells;  but  finding  them  coveted 
by  natives  of  the  interior,  exchanges  would  quickly  spring  up.  Roger 
Williams  says  distinctly  that  among  the  trades  pursued  by  different  mem- 
bers of  the  Narraganset  tribe,  those  along  the  coast  "made  money"  as 
a  regular  and  profitable  occupation.  The  longer  this  continued,  and  the 
more  frequently  it  occurred,  the  nearer  the  shells  came  to  being  money 
as  well  as  ornaments.  In  Iroquois  myths  Hiawatha  introduced  the  use 
of  wampum  by  stringing  small  white  shells  which  he  found  on  the 
shores  of  one  of  the  northern  lakes ;  but  this  was  for  ceremonial  purposes, 
not  as  money  (Hale,  "Iroquois  Book  of  Rites,"  p.  23).  Small  fresh-water 
shells,  suitable  for  stringing  and  unfitted  to  ornamental  purposes,  are 
found  plentifully  in  mounds  and  graves  in  the  Mississippi  Valley,  and 
many  archaeologists  believe  that  these  were  employed  as  the  currency  of 


230  UNIVERSAL  USE  OF  SHELL-MONEY. 

the  tribes  of  that  region ;  it  is  very  probable,  but  there  seems  to  be  little 
or  no  positive  evidence  otherwise  that  such  was  the  case.  Perforated 
pearls  also  occur  in  great  quantities,  and  probably  answered  a  similar 
purpose  to  beads  in  the  South  and  West. 

That  the  bead-money  was  an  evolution  directly  from  the  use  of  single 
separate  shells  seems  evident  from  these  and  various  other  considerations 
and  matters  of  evidence.  The  only  opposing  circumstance  is  the  state- 
ment of  the  missionary,  Loskiel,  who  asserts  that  the  natives  of  southern 
Xew  Jersey  "  used  to  make  their  strings  of  wompom  chiefly  of  small  pieces 
of  wood  of  equal  size,  stained  either  black  or  white.  Few  were  made  of 
muscles,  which  were  esteemed  very  valuable  and  difficult  to  make  ;  for,  not 
having  proper  tools,  they  spent  much  time  in  finishing  them,  and  yet  their 
work  had  a  clumsy  appearance."  This  is  the  only  hint  of  such  a  custom 
I  have  ever  seen  ;  and  no  such  thing  is  mentioned  by  Lindstrom,  who 
surveyed  New*  Jersey  (where  Loskiel  wrote)  as  early^as  1610,  or  in  Smith's 
history  of  that  State,  written  long  previous  to  Loskiel's  account.  If  the 
latter  was  right,  his  words  probably  applied  to  the  belts  of  wampum- 
beads  by  the  aid  of  which  messages  were  carried  and  ceremonials  con- 
ducted among  all  the  eastern  Indians — an  interesting  phase  of  the  subject 
outside  of  my  present  inquiry. 

However  the  custom  began,  the  very  earliest  accounts  of  North  Amer- 
ica show  that  this  money  was  in  common  and  widespread  service  among 
the  natives  as  far  north  as  the  Saskatchewan,  and  westward  to  the  Hocky 
Mountains.  Among  the  far  western  tribes,  who  obtained  it  after  a  succes- 
sion of  barterings  through  races  living  between  them  and  the  coast,  the 
beads  came  to  be  considered  rare  and  precious,  and  were  devoted  almost 
wholly  to  ornament ; -but  everywhere  east  of  the  Mississippi  their  prehis- 
toric circulation,  commonly,  as  a  buying  and  selling  medium,  seems  well 
assured.  The  evidences  of  this  are  derived  not  only  from  the  accounts 
of  early  visitors  to  the  tribes  of  the  interior,  but  from  relics  abounding  at 
their  village  sites  and  in  their  graves.  The  Pacific  coast  had  a  shell-money 
of  entirely  different  character  from  that  of  the  Atlantic  side  of  the  conti- 
nent, but  I  defer  reference  to  it  until  later,  further  than  to  say  that  in 
the  interior  of  the  continent  it  divided  the  honors  of  trade  with  the  east- 
ern beads. 

The  shell-money  of  the  eastern  coast  of  the  United  States,  then,  con- 
sisted of  elongated  beads  of  two  kinds  and  values,  represented  by  differ- 
ent colors.  One  kind  was  white,  the  other  purplish  or  brownish  black.* 

*  Later  a  blue  kind  was  added,  but  this  was  an  innovation  of  white  traders. 


HOW  WHITE   WAMPUM  WAS   MADE.  231 

A  great  variety  of  names  for  one  or  the  other  or  both  of  these  beads 
appears  in  the  books  of  the  early  voyagers  and  historians,  and  it  is  very 
difficult  for  us  now  to  come  at  the  true  significance  of  the  terms  in  most 
cases. 

Northward  of  New  York  seawan  was  the  usual  name  applied,  and  it 
seems  to  have  been  used  generically  for  all  sorts  of  shell-money.  Simi- 
larly "  wampum "  (which  Loskiel  spells  wompom,  and  defines  as  an  Iro- 
quois  word  "meaning  a  muscle"),  in  its  numberless  spellings  and  deriva- 
tives, came  to  be  used  generically,  and  thus  has  descended  to  our  popular 
vocabulary.  But  this  has  occurred,  apparently,  through  defiance  of  its 
proper  restriction ;  for  as  well  as  I  can  make  out,  the  word  originally, 
and  etymologically,  belonged  only  to  the  white  beads. 

The  white  variety  was  most  plentiful  and  of  inferior  value.  It  was 
commonly  made  from  the  large  univalves,  Sycotypus  canaliculatus  and 
Fulyur  carica,  whose  pear-shaped,  coiled  shells  I  have  described  in  a 
previous  chapter.  Yet  sometimes  other  material  was  used.  Thus  the 
"New  England's  Rarities  Discovered,"  by  John  Josselyn,  gent.,  reads:  "A 
kind  of  coccle,  of  whose  shell  the  Indians  make  their  beads  called  wani- 
pnmpeage*  and  mohaicks.  The  first  are  white,"  etc.  This  is  an  excep- 
tion, or  an  error.  Roger  Williams  wrote  in  his  "Key  :"  "  The  New  Eng- 
land Indians  are  ignorant  of  Europe's  coyne.  .  .  .  Their  owne  is  of  two 
sorts ;  one  white,  which  they  make  of  the  stem  or  stock  of  the  Periwin- 
cle,  which  they  call  Meteauhok,  when  all  the  shell  is  broken  off."  Again 
he  says:  "Their  white  they  call  Wampam  (which  signifies  white)."  The 
wampum  made  from  the  periwinkle  was  distinguished  in  law  as  late  as 
1663  in  Rhode  Island ;  and  in  1679  Wooley,  describing  New  York,  says 
of  it :  "  They  [the  Indians]  make  their  White  Wampum  or  Silver  of  a 
kind  of  Horn,  which  is  beyond  Oyster-bay " —a  phrase  that  certainly 
would  not  apply  to  a  bivalve. 

It  appears  certain,  then,  that  the  coiled,  univalve,  "periwinkle"  shells 
were  largely  used  for  this  inferior  grade  of  currency.  It  was  only  neces- 
sary to  take  out  one  or  two  small  sections  of  the  central  column  of  the 
spire  and  smooth  the  edges ;  the  hollow  core  made  them  natural  beads. 

Smith's  "History  of  New  Jersey"  informs  us  that  this  was  precisely 
the  plan  followed,  for  it  relates  that  "the  white  wampum  was  worked 
out  of  the  inside  of  the  great  conques  into  the  form  of  a  bead,  and  per- 
forated to  string  on  leather."  Still  earlier  testimony  comes  from  the 
southern  coast.  Thus  Beverly,  in  his  "History  and  Present  State  of 

*  Wampampeege.— WINTHROP  (1634). 


232  SPELLING  AND  DERIVATION  OF  "QUAHAUG." 

Virginia  "  (1705),  records  that  the  riches  of  the  Indians  there  consisted  of 
"Peak,  Roenoke,  and  such-like  trifles  made  out  of  the  Cunk  Shell.  Peak 
is  of  two  sorts,  or  rather  of  two  colors;  both  are  made  of  one  Shell,  tho' 
of  different  parts;  one  is  a  dark  Purple  Cylinder,  and  the  other  a  white; 
they  are  both  made  in  size  and  figure  alike."  The  same  author  also 
mentions  a  poorer  kind  of  money  yet,  "  made  of  the  cockle  shell,  broke 
into  small  bits  with  rough  edges,  drilFd  through  in  the  same  manner  as 
Beads,  and  this  they  call  Roenoke"  Other  authorities  corroborate  this, 
and  prove  what  I  have  been  led  to  enlarge  upon  —  the  fact  that  the 
conchs  were  used  mainly  as  material  for  the  white  beads — because  the 
popular  idea  has  been  that  all  the  shell-money  was  made  from  the  valves 
of  quahaug. 

Out  of  the  quahaug  was  fabricated  that  dark-colored  variety  of  wam- 
pum— the  "gold"  of  the  red  men.  This  bivalve  is  one  of  the  commonest 
mollusks  on  the  shore  of  eastern  America  south  of  Cape  Cod.  It  is  a 
thick,  somewhat  globose  shell,  which  buries  itself  in  the  sand  under  pretty 
deep  salt-water.  The  Indians  gathered  it  alive  by  wading  and  feeling 
with  the  toes,  or  by  diving,  and  ate  the  animal  with  great  gusto ;  it 
remains,  indeed,  an  article  of  extensive  sale  in  all  our  markets,  under  the 
name  of  "round"  or  "hard "clam,  or  "quahaug" — the  scientific  name 
of  which  is  Venus  mercenaria. 

In  regard  to  the  word  "quahaug,"  Mr.  J.  H.  Trumbull,  of  Hartford, 
Connecticut,  who  leads  students  in  the  etymology  of  the  languages  of 
the  native  races  of  New  England,  writes  me  as  follows :  "  For  the  spelling 
and  derivation  of  the  common  name  Quahaug,  in  the  last  edition  of 
Webster,  I  am,  I  believe,  responsible.  The  pronunciation  there  given  is 
that  of  eastern  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island — kwaw'hog.  I  have  occa- 
sionally heard  the  name  reduced  to  a  monosyllable — quawfg ;  and  farther 
east  it  is  often  made  pooquaw'.  In  a  note  to  my  edition  of  Roger  Will- 
iams's  Indian  Key  ("  Narraganset  Club  Publications,"  vol.  i.,  p.  140)  I  gave 
two  or  three  other  dialectic  forms  of  the  Indian  name.  As  you  may  not 
have  the  volume  within  reach,  I  copy  the  note:  Pequot,  p' quaughliaug  * 
Gus.  Stiles,  MS. — Abnaki,  pekwe,  pi.  pekwaliak,  'huitres' — Rale.  The 
signification  appears  to  be,  either  'thick  shell '  or  '  tightly  -  closed  shell.' 
The  Delaware  equivalent  is,  as  Zeisberger  wrote  it, ' pooque-u,  a  muscle.'  I 
have  now  no  doubt  that  the  second  meaning  given  above  (tightly-closed) 

*  "A  piece  of  Poquahauges,  a  rare  shell,  and  a  dainty  food  with  the  Indians.  The 
flesh  eats  like  veal ;  the  English  make  pyes  thereof ;  and  of  the  shells  the  Indians  make 
money.  "—WiNTHROP  (1634).  A  historical  pamphlet  gives  Poquau  as  the  name  used  in 
Martha's  Vineyard  in  1807.— E.  I. 


CONFUSION  OF  TERMS  FOR   SHELL-MONEY.  233 

is  the  true  one,  distinguishing  the  Venus  mercenaries  from  the  more 
common  Mya,  or  gaping  clam.  Strachey's  Virginia  vocabulary  (about 
1612)  gives  cawaifi  for  'oysters,'  which  is,  I  have  no  doubt,  another 
form  of  the  same  name  =  p'cawaih.  The  vocabularies  mentioned  are 
the  only  ones  I  now  remember  in  which  the  name  is  found." 

Towards  the  anterior  end  of  the  otherwise  white  interior  of  each  of 
the  valves  of  this  rnollusk's  shell  is  a  deep  purple  or  brownish-black  scar, 
indicating  the  point  of  muscular  attachment — fishermen  call  it  the  "eye." 
This  dark  spot  was  broken  out  of  the  shell  by  the  Indians,  and  formed 
the  material  of  their  more  valuable  coins.  In  descriptions  of  it  we  meet 
with  a  new  list  of  terms  and  additional  confusion.  It  was  worth,  on  the 
average,  twice  as  much  as  the  white  variety,  and  the  latter  was  frequent- 
ly dyed  to  counterfeit  it. 

In  New  England  Roger  Williams  describes  this  superior  money  as 
follows :  "  The  second  is  black,  inclining  to  blue,  which  is  made  of  the 
shell  of  a  fish  which  some  English  call  Hens,  Poquauhock"  This  money, 
he  says,  was  called  "  Suckdubock*  (Sucki  signifying  blacke)."  Josselyn 
gives  mohaicks  as  the  Connecticut  word.  Among  the  Dutch  on  the 
Hudson  River  (arid  frequently  elsewhere)  seawan  was  the  usual  term — and 
they  spoke  of  it  as  black  or  white — the  various  shades  of  blue,  purple, 
and  dull  black  receiving  separate  names,  but  regarded  as  of  equal  value. 
In  notices  of  it  among  the  early  writers,  whose  carelessness  is  apparent, 
the  words  wampum,  wompam,  wompom,  wampampeege,  wampumpeage, 
wampeage,  peage,  peag,  wampum  peak,  mohaicks,  suckauhock,  seawan, 
seawant,  roenoke,  ronoak,  and  others  occur.  Sea  want  appears  to  have  been 
properly  a  generic  term  indicating  any  and  all  kinds  of  shell-money ; 
wampum  was  often  used  thus,  and  now  is  so  used  altogether;  but  origi- 
nally it  seems  to  have  meant  the  white  beads  alone,  while  the  words  peag 
(in  its  various  forms),  suckauhock  and  mohaicks  represented  the  black. 
In  Beverly's  "  Virginia,"  however,  this  is  precisely  reversed,  which  leads 
us  to  believe  that  the  author  made  a  mistake.  Southern  writers  unite  in 
making  peak  generic,  while  roenokef  is  a  word  unknown  at  the  North. 
All  of  these  terms  are  misspelled  derivatives  from  roots  meaning  "shell," 
and  the  Indian  names  for  Venus  mercenaria  show  their  close  affinity  with 
the  group.  Porcelan  was  a  Dutch  appellation,  heard  only  among  the 
traders  at  New  York. 

*  Misprint  for  suckau/iock. 

f  "  Eoanoke  (a  small  kind  of  beades)  made  of  oyster  shells,  which  they  use  and  pass  one 
to  another,  as  we  doe  money  (a  cubites  length  valuing  six  pence)." — HARIOT  (1614),  p.  41. 
For  "a  bushel"  of  these  Powhatan  sold  his  daughter. 


234  METHODS   OF  DRILLING  THE   BEADS. 

Some  of  the  methods  of  making  this  finer  sort  of  bead-coin  are  inter- 
esting. "Before  ever  they  had  awle-Uades  from  Europe  they  made  shift 
to  bore  their  shell-money  with  stone."  This  was  around  Narraganset ; 
and  in  the  shell-heaps  along  the  New  England  coast  are  hidden  these  old 
flint  awls  of  prehistoric  design,  which  may  have  been  revolved  in  some 
cases  by  a  small  bow  such  as  jewellers  employ  at  present.  In  Virginia, 
Beverly  found  that  both  sorts  si  peak  were  "in  size  and  figure  alike,  and 
resembling  the  English  Buglas,  but  not  so  transparent  nor  so  brittle. 
They  are  wrought  as  smooth  as  glass,  being  one-third  of  an  inch  long  and 
about  a  quarter  in  diameter,  strung  by  a  hole  drilled  through  the  centre." 
Lawson  describes  the  drilling,  "  which  the  Indians  manage  with  a  nail 
stuck  in  a  cane  or  reed.  Thus  they  roll  it  continually  on  their  thighs 
with  their  right  hand,  holding  the  bit  of  shell  with  their  left ;  so  in  time 
they  drill  a  hole  quite  through  it,  which  is  very  tedious  work,  but  espe- 
cially in  making  their  ronoak." 

The  coinage,  so  to  speak,  of  this  shell-money  was,  therefore,  a  work 
of  patient  labor,  and  great  delicacy  of  manipulation,  and  there  was  no  fear 
of  increasing  the  supply  beyond  the  demands  of  trade  by  the  worth  of 
one  deer-skin,  since  a  savage  would  rarely  make  a  single  bead  more  than 
sufficed  for  his  immediate  necessities.  It  was  a  true  medium  of  exchange 

O 

— real  currency.  All  the  early  accounts  speak  of  it  as  "  riches "  and 
"  money  "  and  "  current  specie." 

The  Delawares  in  fact  had  a  tribal  treasury  of  wampum,  out  of  which 
were  paid  the  expenses  of  public  affairs.  At  certain  feasts  a  great 
quantity  of  it  was  scattered,  to  be  scrambled  for  by  the  youngsters — 
carnival  fashion.  Hired  servants  at  these  feasts  or  anywhere  else  were 
paid  in  wampum,  and  great  quantities  were  thrown  into  graves. 

It  followed  as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  shrewd  first  traders  who 
came  to  New  York  and  New  Jersey  should  adopt  this  currency  which 
all  the  natives  were  accustomed  to,  receiving  it  as  pay  for  their  mer- 
chandise, and  with  it  buying  peltries  of  the  Indians.  Thus  wampum 
quickly  became  a  standard  of  values,  the  currency  of  the  colonists  to 
a  great  extent  in  their  transactions  with  each  other,  and  even  a  legal 
tender. 

Though  the  beads  were  often  used  separately,  the  ordinary  and  ap- 
proved manner  was  to  string  them  upon  the  sinews  of  animals  or  upon 
cords,  which  might  or  might  not  be  woven  into  plaits  about  as  broad  as 
the  hand,  called  wampum  belts.  The  length  of  these  strings  varied,  but 
in  the  North  about  six  feet  was  found  the  usual  quantity  computed  by 


INTRODUCTION   OF   SHELL-MONEY  TO  NEW  ENGLAND.  235 

the  Indians,  and  hence  the  fathom  became  the  unit  of  trade.*  In  the 
Carolinas,  according  to  Lawson,  the  strings  were  measured  in  cubits,  "as 
much  in  length  as  will  reach  from  the  elbow  to  the  little  finger." 

The  Indians  themselves  were  particular  as  to  quality  and  size  of  the 
beads,  for  upon  the  elegance  of  their  finish  (to  speak  scientifically,  the 
amount  of  labor  and  time  they  represented)  depended  their  value.  "  When 
these  beads  are  worn  out,"  says  Lindstrom,  "  so  that  they  cannot  be  strung 
neatly  and  evenly  on  the  thread,  they  no  longer  consider  them  as  good. 
Their  way  of  trying  them  is  to  rub  the  whole  threadful  on  their  noses; 
if  they  find  it  full  and  even,  like  glass  beads,  then  they  are  considered 
good,  otherwise  they  break  and  throw  them  away.  Their  manner  of 
measuring  their  strings  is  by  the  length  of  their  thumbs :  from  the  end 
of  the  nail  to  the  first  joint  makes  six  beads."  This  was  in  New  Jersey. 

Seeing  that  profit  and  wealth  lay  in  the  possession  of  wampum,  the 
burghers  along  the  Hudson  River,  as  the  easiest  way  of  getting  rich., 
began  to  make  it.  With  their  tools  of  steel  this  could  be  done  very 
rapidly ;  but  with  absence  of  the  painstaking  care  with  which  the  In- 
dian wrought  came  a  loss  of  value.  To  widen  their  market  it  was  car- 
ried to  New  England.  Considering  the  many  references  to  it,  and  the  un- 
doubted fact  that  it  was  made  there  aboriginally  as  well  as  southward,  I 
am  at  a  loss  to  understand  Gowan's  statement  that  "the  use  of  wampum 
was  not  known  in  New  England  until  it  was  introduced  there  in  October, 
1627,  by  Isaac  de  Hazier,  who  was  acting  as  a  sort  of  amity-treaty  com- 
missioner from  the  New  Netherlands  to  Plymouth  Colony.  He  carried 
wampum  thither  and  bouglit  corn.  To  this  introduction  the  pious  Hub- 
bard  attributes  all  the  wars  which  ensued  between  the  Puritans  and  the 
Indians.  u  Whatever  were  the  honey  in  the  mouth  of  that  beast  of  trade, 
there  was  a  deadly  sting  in  the  tail,"  he  wails  out.  "  For  it  is  said  they 
(the  Dutch)  first  brought  our  people  to  the  knowledge  of  wamjpam-peag ; 
and  the  acquaintance  therewith  occasioned  the  Indians  of  these  parts  to 
learn  the  skill  to  make  it,  by  which,  as  by  the  exchange  of  money,  they 
purchased  store  of  artillery,  both  from  the  English,  Dutch,  and  French, 
which  proved  a  fatal  business  to  those  that  were  concerned  in  it.  It 
seems  the  trade  thereof  was  at  first,  by  strict  proclamation,  prohibited  by 

*  "They  fashion  both  sorts  like  beads,  and  String  them  into  several  lengths,  but  the 
most  usual  measure  is  a  Fathom  ;  for  when  they  make  any  considerable  bargain,  they 
usually  say  so  many  Fathom.  So  many  Black  or  so  many  white  Wampams  make  a  far- 
thing, a  penny,  and  so  on  :  which  Wampam  or  Indian  Money  we  valued  above  the  Spanish 
or  English  Silver  in  any  Payments,  because  of  trading  with  the  Indians  in  their  own 
coin."— WOOLEY'S  New  York,  1679. 


236  WAMPUM  MOKE   VALUABLE  THAN  GOLD  AND  SILVER. 

the  king.     Sed  quid  non  mortalis  pectora,  cogis,  duri  sacri  fames!     The 
love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  &e." 

The  authority  for  Gowan's  statement  is  probably  an  intimation  in 
Nathaniel  Morton's  "New  England's  Memorial!"  (1669),  p.  67,  followed 
by  the  remark  that  "sundry  unworthy  persons"  sold  firearms  to  the 
Indians  for  it. 

I  am  not  singular  in  doubting  the  accuracy  of  this  tradition,  for  in 
addition  to  the  contradictory  evidence  already  quoted,  I  observe  that,  in 
his  work  on  the  "Antiquities  of  the  Southern  Indians,"  C.  C.  Jones  re- 
marks :  "  It  may  be  safely  asserted  that  this  shell-money  was  manufactured 
along  the  Atlantic  coast,  from  Maine  to  Florida,  and  on  the  Gulf  coast, 
certainly  as  far  south  as  Central  America."  The  natives  of  Rhode  Island 
certainly  practised  the  art  before  the  arrival  of  Europeans. 

.Whatever  may  be  the  truth  on  this  point,  it  is  a  fact  that  at  a  very 
early  day  both  Dutch  and  English  merchants  adopted  it  as  the  most  prof- 
itable medium  with  which  to  do  business.  The  red  men,  finding  a  new 
value  placed  upon  their  ancient  wealth,  applied  themselves  anew  to  the 
industry,  and  wampum  increased  rapidly  in  amount,  but  with  the  usual 
result  of  depreciation  in  value.  Political  economy  applies  as  well  to 
wampum  as  to  silver  and  gold.  Indeed  the  "precious"  metals  were  of 
little  account  then.  "An  Indian  chief  to  whom  the  value  of  a  rix-dollar 
was  explained  by  the  first  clergyman  of  Rensselaerwyck,  laughed  exceed- 
ingly to  think  the  Dutch  should  set  so  high  a  value  upon  a  piece  of  iron." 
Mr.  Gowan  has  very  clearly  explained  how  trade  was  helped  by  the  wam- 
pum at  the  first,  and  I  quote  his  paragraph : 

"Although  the  general  distinction  of  this  seawarit  was  black  and 
white,  yet  that  in  use  in  New  England  was  black,  blue,  and  white,  and 
that  of  the  Five  Nations  of  Indians  was  of  a  purple  color.  .  .  .  The  proc- 
ess of  trade  was  this:  The  Dutch  and  English  sold  for  sea  want  to  the 
Indians  of  the  interior  their  knives,  combs,  scissors,  needles,  awls,  looking- 
glasses,  hatchets,  guns,  black  cloth,  and  other  articles  of  aboriginal  traffic 
(the  Indians  at  this  time  [about  1665]  rejected  fabrics  in  which  the  least 
white  color  in  their  texture  was  discoverable);  and  with  the  seawant 
bought  the  furs,  corn,  and  venison  from  the  Indians  on  the  seaboard,  who 
also,  with  their  shell-money,  bought  such  articles  from  the  aborigines  re- 
siding farther  inland  ;  and  by  this  course  the  white  men  saved  the  trouble 
of  transporting  their  furs  and  grain  through  the  country.  Thus,  by  this 
circulating  medium,  a  brisk  commerce  was  carried  on,  not  only  between 
the  white  people  and  the  Indians,  but  also  between  different  tribes  among 
the  latter.  So  much  was  this  seawant  the  circulating  medium  of  many  of 


A  MINT   ON  THE   SHORE  OF  LONG  ISLAND.  237 

the  European  colonies  in  North  America,  that  the  different  governments 
found  it  necessary  to  make  regulations  on  the  subject." 

It  was  during  the  administration  of  William  Kieft  that  wampum  cur- 
rency became  of  this  importance  in  New  York.  Washington  Irving,  in 
his  " Knickerbocker  "  History,  Chapter  VI.,  gives  a  humorous  account  of 
it,  and  the  troubles  to  which  it  gave  rise.  Kieft  began  by  endeavoring  to 
flood  the  colony  with  this  Indian  money,  which,  as  I  have  shown,  the 
Indians  were  content  to  take  in  exchange  for  their  peltries,  but  which  of 
course  had  no  intrinsic  value.  Says  the  veritable  Diedrich,  than  whom 
we  could  wish  no  better  authority: 

"He  began  by  paying  all  the  servants  of  the  Company  and  all  the 
debts  of  the  government  in  strings  of  wampum.  He  sent  emissaries  to 
sweep  the  shores  of  Long  Island,  which  was  the  Ophir  of  this  modern 
Solomon,  and  abounded  in  shell-fish.  These  were  transported  in  loads  to 
New  Amsterdam,  coined  into  Indian  money,  and  launched  into  circulation. 

"And  now  for  a  time  affairs  went  on  swimmingly.  .  .  .  Yankee  tra- 
ders poured  into  the  province,  buying  everything  they  could  lay  their 
hands  on,  and  paying  the  worthy  Dutchmen  their  own  price — in  Indian 
money.  If  the  latter,  however,  attempted  to  pay  the  Yankees  in  the  same 
coin  for  their  tinware  and  wooden  bowls  the  case  was  altered;  nothing 
would  do  but  Dutch  guilders  and  such-like  '  metallic  currency.'  What 
was  worse,  the  Yankees  introduced  an  inferior  kind  of  wampum  made  of 
oyster-shells,  with  which  they  deluged  the  province,  carrying  off  in  ex- 
change all  the  silver  and  gold,  the  Dutch  herrings  and  Dutch  cheeses. 
Thus  early  did  the  knowing  men  of  the  East  manifest  their  skill  in  bargain- 
ing the  New  Amsterdamers  out  of  the  oyster  and  leaving  them  the  shell. 

"  It  was  a  long  time  before  William  the  Testy  was  made  sensible  how 
completely  his  grand  project  of  finance  was  turned  against  him  by  his 
Eastern  neighbors ;  nor  would  he  probably  have  ever  found  it  out  had 
not  tidings  been  brought  him  that  the  Yankees  had  made  a  descent  upon 
Long  Island,  and  had  established  a  kind  of  mint  at  Oyster  Bay,  where 
they  were  coining  up  all  the  oyster  banks. 

"Now  this  was  making  a  vital  attack  upon  the  province  in  a  double 
sense,  financial  and  gastronomical.  Ever  since  the  council  dinner  of 
Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  at  the  founding  of  New  Amsterdam,  at  which  ban- 
quet the  oysters  figured  so  conspicuously,  this  divine  shell-fish  had  been 
held  in  a  kind  of  superstitious  reverence  at  the  Manhattoes — as  witness 
the  temples  erected  to  its  cult  in  every  street  and  lane  and  alley.  In  fact 
it  is  the  standard  luxury  of  the  place,  as  is  the  terrapin  at  Philadelphia, 
the  soft  crab  at  Baltimore,  or  the  canvas-back  at  Washington. 


238  STOFFEL  BRINKERHOFFS  GREAT  VICTORY. 

"  The  seizure  of  Oyster  Bay,  therefore,  was  an  outrage  not  merely 
on  the  pockets,  but  the  larders  of  the  New  Amsterdamers ;  the  whole 
community  was  aroused,  and  an  oyster  crusade  was  immediately  set  on 
foot  against  the  Yankees.  Every  stout  trencherman  hastened  to  the 
standard ;  nay,  some  of  the  most  corpulent  Burgomasters  and  Schepens 
joined  the  expedition  as  a  corps  de  reserve,  only  to  be  called  into  action 
when  the  sacking  commenced." 

A  valiant  army  under  Stoffel  Brinkerhoff  having  marched  to  Oyster 
Bay,  routed  the  English  there,  "and  would  have  driven  the  inhabitants 
into  the  sea  if  they  had  not  managed  to  escape  across  the  sound  to  the 
main-land  by  the  Devil's  Stepping-stones,  which  remain  to  this  day  mon- 
uments of  this  great  Dutch  victory  over  the  Yankees."  This  done — 

"  Stoffel  Brinkerhoff  made  great  spoil  of  oysters  and  clams,  coined  and 
uncoined,  and  then  set  out  on  his  return  to  the  Manhattoes.  A  grand 
triumph,  after  the  manner  of  the  ancients,  was  prepared  for  him  by  Will- 
iam the  Testy.  He  entered  New  Amsterdam  as  a  conqueror,  mounted 
on  a  Narraganset  pacer.  Five  dried  codfish  on  poles,  standards  taken 
from  the  enemy,  were  borne  before  him,  and  an  immense  store  of  oys- 
ters and  clams,  Weathersfield  onions,  and  Yankee  'notions'  formed  the 
spolia  opima ;  while  several  coiners  of  oyster-shells  were  led  captive  to 
grace  the  hero's  triumph. 

"  The  procession  was  accompanied  by  a  full  band  of  boys  and  negroes, 
performing  on  the  popular  instruments  of  rattle -bones  and  clam-shells, 
while  Antony  Van  Corlear  sounded  his  trumpet  from  the  ramparts. 

"A  great  banquet  was  served  in  the  Stadthouse  from  the  clams  and 
oysters  taken  from  the  enemy,  while  the  governor  sent  the  shells  private- 
ly to  the  mint,  and  had  them  coined  into  Indian  money  with  which  he 
paid  his  troops." 

To  check  the  evil  effects  of  this  "inflation,"  a  law  was  passed  at  the 
instance  of  Governor  Kieft  by  the  Council  of  the  New  Netherlands,  on 
April  18, 1641,  which  reads  thus : 

"  Whereas  very  bad  Wampum  is  at  present  circulating  here,  and  pay- 
ment is  made  in  nothing  but  rough,  unpolished  stuff  which  is  brought 
hither  from  other  places,  where  it  is  fifty  per  cent,  cheaper  than  it  is  paid 
out  here,  and  the  good,  polished  Wampum,  commonly  called  Manhattan 
Wampum,  is  wholly  put  out  of  sight  or  exported,  which  tends  to  the  ex- 
press ruin  and  destruction  of  this  Country ;  In  order  to  provide  in  time 
therefor,  We  do,  therefore,  for  the  public  good,  interdict  and  forbid  all 
persons  ...  to  receive  in  payment,  or  to  pay  out,  any  unpolished  Wampum 


LEGAL  REGULATION  OF  WAMPUM  CUKRENCY. 


239 


during  the  next  month  of  May,  except  at  Five  for  one  Stiver,  and  that 
strung,  and  then  after  that  Six  beads  for  one  Stiver.  Whosoever  shall 
be  found  to  have  acted  contrary  hereunto,  shall  provisionally  forfeit  the 
Wampum  which  is  paid  out  and  ten  guilders  for  the  Poor,  and  both 
payer  and  payee  are  alike  liable.  The  well-polished  Wampum  shall  re- 
main at  its  price  as  before,  to  wit,  Four  for  one  stiver,  provided  it  be 
strung." 

In  November,  1647,  another  act  was  passed,  allowing  loose  wampum 
to  circulate,  as  it  was  needed  for  change,  but  excluding  imperfect  and 
unpierced  specimens.  These  measures  of  the  Dutch  government  were 
at  once  imitated  in  the  Connecticut  legislature  by  a  re-enactment  of  some 
precautionary  laws  on  this  subject  previously  in  force  for  many  years,  by 
which  it  was  ordered,  "  That  no  peage  (as  they  call  seawant),  white  or 
black,  bee  paid  or  received,  but  what  is  strunge,  and  in  some  measure 
strunge  sntably,  and  not  small  and  great,  uncomely  and  disorderly  mixt, 
as  formerly  it  hath  beene" 

In  Massachusetts  "  wampam-peag"  was  legal  tender  (Act  of  1648)  for 
all  debts  less  than  forty  shillings,  "except  county  rates  to  the  treasurer," 
the  white  at  eight  for  a  penny,  and  the  black  at  four  for  a  penny.  The 
Pequot  Indians,  in  the  year  1656,  paid  as  a  tribute  to  the  United  Colonies 
of  New  England  215  fathoms  of  wampum — of  which  amount  the  Com- 
missioners of  the  United  Colonies  paid  to  Thomas  Stanton,  their  agent 
among  the  Indians,  120  fathoms  for  his  salary.  Having  deducted  this, 
there  remained  95  fathoms,  which,  together  with  51  fathoms  at  New 
Haven,  in  all  145  fathoms,  was  divided  among  the  United  Colonies, 
according  to  the  number  of  males  enumerated  in  the  year  1665,  in  the 


following  manner : 

To  Massachusetts 94  fathoms,  2s.  Qd. 

To  Plymouth 18        "         Qs.Qd. 


To  Connecticut 20  fathoms,  2s.  Qd. 

To  New  Haven..  ..13       "        Os.  Qd. 


This  was  the  first  distribution  of  public  money  in  the  good  old  time 
of  our  history. 

It  was  not  until  1661  that  shell-beads  were  declared  no  longer  legal 
tender;  but  long  subsequent,  wampum  served  as  money  in  New  Eng- 
land, as  it  did  everywhere  else.* 


"In  a  Manuscript  record  of  the  province  [of  New  Netherlands],  dated  1659,  Library 
of  the  Historical  Society,  is  the  following  mention  of  Indian  money: 

"  '  Seawant,  alias  wampum — Beads  manufactured  from  the  Quakaug  or  wilk.  A  shell- 
fish formerly  abounding  on  our  coasts,  but  lately  of.  more  rare  occurrence,  of  two  colors, 
black  and  white  ;  the  former  twice  the  value  of  the  latter.  Six  beads  of  the  white  and 


24:0  THE  RED  MAN'S  NOTION  OF  PRICES. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  get  at  the  volume  in  circulation,  but  values 
are  accessible.  These  remained  substantially  those  I  have  mentioned* 
until  1673,  when  the  true  wampum  had  become  very  scarce,  owing  to  the 
hoarding  of  it  by  the  Indians  and  its  disposal  to  remote  tribes.  The 
Dutch  council,  therefore,  issued  an  edict  enhancing  its  legal  value  twenty- 
five  per  cent.,  and  permitting  the  Swedes  of  southern  New  Jersey,  who 
had  been  plundered  by  Dutch  privateers,  to  lay  an  imposition  in  wampum 
to  the  value  of  four  guilders  upon  each  anker  of  strong  rum,  and  so  on. 

Such  an  action  as  this  increase  of  value  one-fourth,  by  act  of  council, 
the  red  men  could  not  in  the  least  comprehend.  Adair  says  they  had  a 
fixed  value  for  every  bead,  and  "bought  and  sold  at  the  current  rate, 
without  the  least  variation  for  circumstances  either  of  time  or  place ;  and 
now  they  will  hear  nothing  patiently  of  loss  or  gain,  or  allow  us  to 
heighten  the  price  of  our  goods,  be  our  reasons  ever  so  strong."  This 
was  a  sad  case  for  an  Indian  trader ! 

Nearly  a  centuryf  passed,  and  still  the  shell-money  held  a  firm  place 
in  colonial  trade  all  along  the  coast.  That  observant  traveller,  Dr.  Kalm, 
who  visited  and  wrote  about  the  American  settlements  in  1748,  saw  this 
money- in  constant  use  at  that  period  all  through  the  coast  towns.  "A 
traveller,"  he  says,  "  who  goes  to  trade  with  the  Indians,  and  is  well  stocked 
with  wampum,  may  become  a  considerable  gainer;  but  if  he  take  gold 
coin  or  bullion,  he  will  undoubtedly  be  a  loser;  for  the  Indians  who  live 

three  of  the  black  for  an  English  penny.  The  seawant  depreciates  from  time  to  time. 
The  New  England  people  make  use  of  it  as  a  means  of  barter,  not  only  to  carry  away  the 
best  cargoes  which  we  send  thither,  but  to  accumulate  a  large  quantity  of  beavers  and  other 
furs  ;  by  which  the  company  is  defrauded  of  her  revenues,  and  the  merchants  disappointed 
in  making  returns  with  that  speed  which  they  might  wish  to  meet  their  engagements : 
while  their  commissioners  and  the  inhabitants  remain  overstocked  with  seawant — a  sort 
of  currency  of  no  value  except  with  the  New  Netherland  savages,'  "•  etc. 

*  In  New  Jersey,  1640.  Six  beads  valued  at  two  stivers  for  black  and  one  stiver  for 
white. 

In  New  York,  1641.  Polished  good  "Manhattan "  wampum,  four  beads  for  one  stiver; 
five  and  six  unpolished  beads  for  one  stiver. 

At  Boston,  1648.     White,  eight  beads  for  one  penny  ;  black,  four  for  one  penny. 

New  York,  1659 — see  preceding  foot-note. 

In  Rhode  Island,  1663.  White  (periwinkle),  six  beads  for  one  penny  ;  black  (quahaug), 
three  beads  one  penny  ;  by  the  fathom,  three  hundred  and  sixty  white  beads,  five  shillings 
sterling;  a  fathom  black,  ten  shillings  sterling. 

f  New  Jersey,  1765.  "Every  bead  is  of  a  known  value,  and  a  belt  of  a  less  number 
is  made  to  equal  one  of  a  greater,  by  so  many  as  is  wanting  fastened  to  the  belt  by  a 
string.  .  .  .  Eight  white  wampums,  or  four  black,  passed  at  this  time  as  a  stiver ;  twenty 
stivers  made  what  they  called  a  guilder,  which  was  about  sixpence  of  present  currency." — 
SMITH,  History  of  New  Jersey. 


WAMPUM  IN  THE   SOUTHERN   COLONIES.  241 

farther  up  the  country  put  little  or  no  value  upon  these  metals  which  we 
reckon  so  precious,  as  I  have  frequently  observed  in  the  course  of  my 
travels.  The  Indians  formerly  made  their  own  wampums,  though  not 
without  a  deal  of  trouble ;  but  at  present  the  Europeans  employ  them- 
selves that  way,  especially  the  inhabitants  of  Albany,  who  get  a  consid- 
erable profit  by  it."  This  last  fact  is  also  mentioned  by  the  Reverend 
Burnaby,  who  further  saw  it  made  by  white  men  on  Staten  Island. 

Only  a  little  later  (1756)  Jacob  Spicer,  the  most  prominent  man  in 
Cape  May  County,  ]S~ew  Jersey,  advertised  to  barter  goods  "  for  all  kinds 
of  produce  and  commodities,  and  particularly  for  wampum,"  offering  five 
dollars  reward  to  the  person  making  the  largest  amount  of  it.  "  He  suc- 
ceeded in  procuring  a  quantity  of  the  wampum,  and  before  sending  it  off 
to  Albany  [cf.  antea]  and  a  market,  weighed  a  shot-bag  full  of  silver  coin 
and  the  same  shot-bag  full  of  wampum,  and  found  the  latter  most  valu- 
able by  ten  per  cent." 

It  was  not,  however,  in  the  Northern  States  alone  that  wampum  circu- 
lated as  money.  Old  historians  of  the  Southern  Colonies  make  many  ref- 
erences to  it.  I  have  already,  in  another  connection,  quoted  some  sentences 
from  Beverly's  "History  and  Present  State  of  Virginia,"  but  repeat  them 
here  in  order  to  give  the  entire  passage  its  full  significance.  He  says : 

"The  Indians  had  nothing  which  they  reckoned  Riches  before  the 
English  went  among  them,  except  Peak,  Roenoke  and  such  like  trifles 
made  out  of  the  Gunk  Shell.  These  past  with  them  instead  of  Gold  and 
Silver,  and  serv'd  them  both  for  Money  and  Ornament. 

" Peak  is  of  two  sorts,  or  rather  of  two  colours;  both  are  made  of  one 
Shell,  tho'  of  different  parts;  one  is  a  dark  Purple  Cylinder,  and  the 
other  a  white ;  they  are  both  made  in  size  and  figure  alike,  and  common- 
ly much  resembling  the  English  Buglas,  but  not  so  transparent  nor  so 
brittle.  They  are  wrought  as  smooth  as  Glass,  being  one  third  of  an  inch 
long,  and  about  a  quarter  diameter,  strung  by  a  hole  drilled  thro'  the 
center.  The  dark  color  is  the  dearest,  and  distinguish'd  by  the  name  of 
Wampom  Peak,  The  English  men  that  are  call'd  Indian  Traders  value 
the  Wampom  Peak  at  eighteen  pence  per  Yard,  and  the  white  Peak  at 
nine  pence.  The  Indians  also  make  Pipes  of  this,  two  or  three  inches 
long,  and  thicker  than  ordinary,  which  are  much  more  valuable.  They 
also  make  Runtees  of  the  same  Shell,  and  grind  them  as  smooth  as  Peak. 
These  are  either  large,  like  an  Oval  Bead,  and  drill'd  the  length  of  the 
Oval,  or  else  they  are  circular  and  flat,  almost  an  inch  over,  and  one-third 
of  an  inch  thick,  and  drill'd  edgeways.  Of  this  Shell  they  also  make 
round  Tablets  of  about  four  inches  diameter,  which  they  polish  as  smooth 

16 


242  PECULIARITIES  OF  SOUTHERN   SHELL-MONEY. 

as  the  other,  and  sometimes  they  etch  or  grave  thereon  Circles,  Stars,  and 
a  Half-Moon,  or  any  other  figure  suitable  to  their  fancy.  These  they  wear 
instead  of  Medals  before  or  behind  their  Neck,  and  use  the  Peak,  Runtees, 
and  Pipes  for  Coronets,  Bracelets,  Belts  or  long  Strings,  hanging  down 
before  the  Breast,  or  else  they  lace  their  Garments  with  them,  and  adorn 
their  Tomahawks  and  every  other  thing  that  they  value. 

"  They  have  also  another  sort  which  is  as  current  among  them,  but  of 
far  less  value ;  and  this  is  made  of  the  Cockle  shell,  broke  into  small  bits 
with  rough  edges,  drill'd  through  in  the  same  manner  as  Beads,  and  this 
they  call  Roenoke,  and  use  it  as  the  Peak. 

"  These  sorts  of  Money  have  their  rates  set  upon  them  as  unalterable, 
and  current  as  the  values  of  our  Money  are." 

The  "  Westover  Papers  "  say  of  the  conch  :  "  The  extremities  of  these 
shells  are  blue,  the  rest  being  white,  so  that  Peak  of  both  these  colours 
are  drilled  out -of  the  same  shell,  serving  the  natives  [of  the  Virginia 
coast]  both  for  ornament  and  money,  and  are  esteemed  by  them  beyond 
gold  and  silver." 

"  The  money  of  the  Carolina  Indians,"  says  Lawson  ("  History  of  Caro- 
lina"— Raleigh  reprint,  1860,  p.  315),  "  is  of  different  sorts,  but  all  made  of 
shells  which  are  found  on  the  coast  of  Carolina,  which  are  very  large  and 
hard  so  that  they  are  very  difficult  to  cut.  Some  English  smiths  have 
tried  to  drill  this  sort  of  shell-money,  and  thereby  thought  to  get  an  ad- 
vantage, but  it  proved  so  hard  that  nothing  could  be  gained."  Lawson 
then  describes  the  valuable  shell  "gorges,  which  they  wear  about  their 
neck  in  a  string,"  and  which  seem  also  to  have  served  as  coin  in  certain 
cases;  "  but,"  he  adds,  "  the  general  and  current  species  of  all  the  Indians 
in  Carolina,  and,  I  believe,  all  over  the  continent  as  far  as  the  Bay  of 
Mexico,  is  that  which  we  call  Peak  and  Ron  oak ;  but  Peak  more  espe- 
cially." He  says  that  peak  is  the  same  as  the  New  York  wampum  or 
porcelan,  that  five  cubits  of  it  will  purchase  a  dressed  doe-skin,  and  seven 
or  eight  a  dressed  buck-skin.  He  continues: 

"An  Englishman  could  not  afford  to  make  so  much  of  this  wampum 
for  five  or  ten  times  the  value;  for  it  is  made  out  of  a  vast,  great  shell, 
of  which  that  country  affords  Aplenty ;  where  it  is  ground  smaller  than 
the  small  end  of  a  tobacco-pipe  or  a  large  wheat  straw.  Four  or  five  of 
these  make  an  inch,  and  every  one  is  to  be  drilled  through,  and  made  as 
smooth  as  glass,  and  so  strung  as  beads  are;  and  a  cubit  of  the  Indian 
measure  contains  as  much  in  length  as  will  reach  from  the  elbow  to  the 
end  of  the  little  finger.  They  never  stand  to  question  whether  it  is  a  tall 
man  or  a  short  man  that  measures  it;  but  if  this  wampum  peak  be  black 


TRADING  BY  BARTER   IN   THE   INTERIOR.  243 

or  purple,  as  some  part  of  that  shell  is,  then  it  is  twice  the  value.  This 
the  Indians  grind  on  stones  and  other  things  till  they  make  it  current; 
but  the  drilling  is  the  most  difficult  to  the  Englishman,  which  the  Indians 
manage  with  a  nail  stuck  in  a  cane  or  reed.  Thus  they  roll  it  continually 
on  their  thighs  with  their  right  hand,  holding  the  bit  of  shell  with  their 
left ;  so,  in  time,  they  drill  a  hole  quite  through  it,  which  is  a  very  tedious 
work — but  especially  in  making  their  ronoak,  four  of  which  will  scarce 
make  one  length  of  wampum.  The  Indians  are  a  people  that  never  value 
their  time,  so  that  they  can  afford  to  make  them,  and  never  need  to  fear 
the  English  will  take  the  trade  out  of  their  hands.  This  is  the  money 
with  which  you  may  buy  skins,  furs,  slaves,  or  anything  the  Indians  have ; 
it  being  the  mammon  (as  our  money  is  to  us)  that  entices  and  persuades 
them  to  do  anything,  and  part  with  everything  they  possess  except  their 
children  for  slaves.  As  for  their  wives,  they  are  often  sold  and  their 
daughters  violated  for  it.  With  this  they  buy  off  murders;  and  whatso- 
ever a  man  can  do  that  is  ill,  this  wampum  will  quit  him  of,  and  make 
him,  in  their  opinion,  good  and  virtuous,  though  never  so  black  before."* 
"  When  Cabeza  de  Vaca,"  says  Jones,  "set  out  upon  his  trading  expe- 
dition, he  carried  with  him  from  the  Gulf  coast  cones  and  other  pieces  of 
sea-snail,  conches  used  for  cutting,  and  '  sea-beads.'  These  he  traded  away 
to  the  Indians  inhabiting  the  interior.  .  .  .  On  various  occasions  shell-beads 
were  offered  as  presents  by  the  Southern  Indians  to  the  Spaniards.  .  .  . 
Among  the  articles  regarded  as  'great  riches'  by  the  inhabitants  of  Pacaha, 
Bedma  enumerates  i  beads  made  of  sea-snails."' 

Let  us  now  transfer  our  inquiries  to  the  western  half  of  the  continent. 

Though  with  the  tribes  of  the  central  region  of  North  America  com- 
mercial transactions  were  all  a  matter  of  barter,  and  the  standard  of  value 
(if  any  existed)  varied  with  the  especial  local  commodity,  like  buffalo- 
robes  on  the  plains,  blankets  among  the  Navajoes  and  Puebloans,  or  otter- 
skins  in  Alaska,  yet  the  coast  tribes  of  the  Pacific  had  a  true  money  when 
white  men  first  became  acquainted  with  them. 

This  currency  seems  to  have  been  confined  nearly  or  quite  within  the 
present  boundaries  of  the  United  Stated  and  British  Columbia,  and  it 
comprised  a  variety  of  forms,  one  of  which  in  the  northern  and  another 
sort  in  the  southern  part  of  this  area,  approached  in  solid  and  widely 
recognized  value  the  substantial  wampum  of  the  East. 

The  northern  and  most  celebrated  of  these  varieties  was  the  hiqua, 

*  Compare  Dr.  Brickell's  "Natural  History  of  North  Carolina"  (1737),  p.  337,  et  seq. 


244  HIQUA  AND  ALLOCOCHICK. 

hikwa,  hiaqua,  or  ioqua — for  all  these  (and  other)  forms  of  the  Chinook 
jargon  word  are  found.  Hiqua  consisted  of  strings  of  the  shell  of  a 
mollusk  (Dentalium)  called  by  conchologists  "  tusk-shells."  These  were 
gathered  off  the  shores  of  Vancouver's  and  Qneen  Charlotte's  Islands  by 
prodding  into  the  sea-bottom  a  long  pole  with  a  spiked  board*  at  the  end, 
upon  the  points  of  which  the  slender  shells  were  caught.  None  were 
quite  two  inches  in  length,  many  much  smaller;  and  among  all  the 
Indians  north  of  the  Columbia  River  the  unit  of  measurement  was  a 
string  of  about  a  fathom's  length,  or  as  much  as  could  be  stretched  be- 
tween the  extended  hands  of  the  owner.  The  larger  the  shells  the  great- 
er their  value ;  forty  to  the  fathom  was  the  standard,  fifty  to  the  fath- 
om being  worth  scarcely  half  so  much.  Early  in  the  present  century  a 
fathom  was  worth  ten  beaver-skins  in  dealing  with  the  whites  in  Oregon ; 
but  with  the  advent  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  traders  the  hiqua 
disappeared  to  a  great  extent,  and  values  were  reckoned  in  blankets,  as  is 
now  the  case  in  many  parts  of  Alaska  and  Arctic  America. 

South  of  the  fur-trading  posts,  however,  this  money  survived  to  a 
much  later  date,  and  is  even  yet  to  be  seen  in  certain  remote  districts, 
a  large  European  Dentalium  being  exported  to  Alaska  for  trading  with 
Indians  of  the  interior.  "  Those  aboriginal  peddlers,  the  Klikitats,"  and 
other  Columbians,  carried  it  to  southern  Oregon  and  to  the  Klamath 
region  year  after  year,  whence  it  spread  through  all  northern  California, 
receiving  there  a  new  name,  attocochick,  and  an  alteration  of  estimate. 
The  northern  measure  between  the  extended  finger-tips  was  discarded  on 
the  Klamath  River  for  a  string  scarcely  half  that  length.  Among  the 
Hupas,  still  farther  southward,  the  standard  became  a  string  of  five  shells. 
Nearly  every  man  had  ten  lines  tattooed  across  the  inside  of  his  left  arm 
about  half  way  between  the  wrist  and  the  elbow ;  in  measuring  shell- 
money  he  drew  one  end  over  his  left  thumb-nail,  and  if  the  other  end 
reached  to  the  uppermost  of  the  tattoo  lines,  the  five  shells  (about  1870) 
were  worth  $25  in  gold,  or  even  more.  Only  one  in  ten  thousand  would 
reach  this  distinction,  so  that  the  ordinary  worth  of  a  string  was  $10. 
"No  shell  is  treated  as  money  at  all,"  says  Mr.  Powers,  "unless  it  is  long 
enough  to  rate  as  twenty-five  cents.  Below  that  ...  it  goes  to  form  part 
of  a  woman's  necklace.  Real  money  is  ornamented  with  little  scratches 
or  carvings,  and  with  very  narrow  strips  of  thin,  fine  snake-skin,  wrapped 

*  "Obtained  at  a  considerable  depth  by  means  of  a  long  pole  stuck  in  a  flat  board 
about  fifteen  inches  square.  From  this  board  a  number  of  bone  pieces  project,  which, 
when  pressed  down,  enter  the  hollow  ends  of  the  shell  .  .  .  and  [they]  are  thus  brought  to 
the  surface." — KANE,  Wanderings  of  an  Artist. 


HAWOK  AND   ULLO   DESCRIBED.  245 

spirally  around  the  shells ;  and  sometimes  a  tiny  tuft  of  scarlet  wood- 
pecker's down  is  pasted  on  the  base  of  the  shell."  These  marks  manifestly 
were  designed  to  give  the  money  some  sort  of  sanction — make  it  represent 
somewhat  the  labor  put  upon  the  beads  with  which  it  had  to  compete. 

For  south  of  the  Eel  Kiver,  and  thence  throughout  all  central  and 
southern  California,  the  staple  currency  was  a  shell -money  resembling 
the  eastern  wampum.  Iliqua  and  allocochick  were  simply  shells  of  some 
rarity,  ground  at  the  tip  sufficiently  to  admit  of  being  strung,  but  the 
Jiawok  and  ullo  of  California  were  carefully  manufactured,  and  repre- 
sented a  real  cost  of  labor  and  time,  though  they  had  no  intrinsic  value. 
These  Californian  coins  were  of  different  shape  and  value. 

The  first-named  (hawok)  was  of  least  worth,  standing  in  the  place  of 
the  white  wampurn  of  the  East,  or  our  silver.  It  consisted  of  circular 
disks  or  buttons  from  a  quarter  of  an  inch  to  a  whole  inch  in  diameter, 
and  of  the  thickness  of  the  shell  from  which  it  was  cut.  For  this  purpose 
a  heavy  bivalve  was  chosen — usually  the  Saxidomus  cburatus  of  Gould — 
and  broken  into  discoidal  fragments.  These  pieces  were  then  ground 
smooth  and  polished  by  rubbing  on  blocks  of  sandstone,  which  often  had 
to  be  brought  from  a  long  distance  to  the  maker's  rancheria.  This 
finished,  a  hole  was  bored  through  the  centre  with  a  wooden  flint-tipped 
drill,  forced  to  revolve  very  rapidly  by  a  buckskin  string  which  wound 
upon  it,  unwound  and  rewound  itself  in  an  opposite  direction,  through 
the  incessant  vertical  movement  of  a  loose  cross-bar  in  the  operator's 
hand.  These  hawok-disks  were  then  strung  upon  sinews,  or  on  cords 
made  of  milk-weed  fibre,  but  the  strings  were  not  of  invariable  length, 
though  beads  of  like  size  must  be  put  together.  The  very  best  of  this 
was  worth  twenty -five  cents  apiece  ten  years  ago ;  but  the  smallest  always 
went  by  the  string.  This  white-bead  money  was  (and  to  a  certain  extent 
still  is)  the  great  medium  of  Indian  trading  among  themselves. 

Their  gold,  so  to  speak  (the  ullo),  is  made  from  the  shell  of  the  abalone 
(Haliotis),  and  chiefly  from  the  red  species  (H.  rvfescens).  These  shells 
are  cut  with  flints  into  oblong,  key-stone-shaped  pieces  from  one  to  two 
inches  in  length,  according  to  the  curvature  of  the  shell,  and  a  third  as 
broad.  Two  holes  are  drilled  near  the  narrow  end  of  each  piece,  and 
they  are  thus  strung  edge  to  edge.  "  Ten  pieces,"  wrote  Powers,  "gener- 
ally constitute  a  string,  and  the  larger  pieces  rate  at  $1  apiece,  $10  a 
string;  the  smaller  in  proportion,  or  less  if  they  are  not  pretty.  Being 
susceptible  of  a  high  polish,  this  money  forms  a  beautiful  ornament,  and 
is  worn  for  necklaces  on  gala-days.  But  as  money  it  is  rather  too  large 
and  cumbersome,  and  .  .  .  may  be  considered  rather  as  jewelry." 


246  WEALTH  OF  THE  CALIFORNIAN  INDIANS. 

A  third  sort  of  money,  very  rarely  seen  nowadays,  was  fabricated  on 
the  islands  off  the  southern  coast  and  on  the  adjacent  main-land,  occurring 
in  the  mounds  of  Contra  Costa  and  Alameda  counties,  mixed  with  the 
small  flat  disks  described  above.  This  was  called  Jcol-kol,  and  was  made 
by  grinding  off  the  apex  of  the  univalve  shell  of  Olivella  biplicata  until 
a  cord  could  be  passed  through.  It  was  slightly  esteemed. 

Farther  south  all  these  forms  of  shell-cutting  disappear  in  their  capac- 
itv  of  money — retaining  value  only  as  ornaments — so  that  their  use  in 
trade  south  of  California  belongs  under  the  head  of  barter.  Thus  Ban- 
croft notes  of  the  natives  of  Sonora,  "Pearls,  turquoises,  emeralds,  coral, 
feathers,  and  gold  were  in  former  times  part  of  their  property,  and  held 
the  place  of  money." 

There  seems  to  have  been  an  immense  amount  of  this  regular  money, 
hiqua,  allocochick,  hawok  and  iillo  on  the  Pacific  coast;  Powers  thinks 
an  average  of  $100  worth  to  each  male  Indian  would  not  be  too  large  an 
estimate  for  California  at  the  time  of  its  discovery  by  the  Spaniards. 
This  portion  equals  the  value  of  two  grisly  bear-skins,  or  three  ponies, 
or  the  price  of  two  wives.  However,  it  was  not  equally  distributed,  any 
more  than  are  riches  in  more  civilized  neighborhoods — a  point  for  com- 
munists to  consider. 

The  shore  tribes  were  the  coiners  of  this  money,  and  jealously  guarded 
their  privileges.  With  it  they  bought  skins,  arms,  and  implements  from 
the  dwellers  in  the  Coast  Range,  where  grew  animals  and  materials  not 
to  be  obtained  along  the  beach.  The  mountaineers,  in  turn,  disseminated 
it  far  in  the  interior,  where  finally  the  beads  wer.e  prized  and  worn  as 
ornaments,  and  ceased  to  circulate.  Moreover,  an  enormous  waste  and 
destruction  was  always  going  on  (a  fact  also  true  of  the  Atlantic  coast), 
owing  to  the  practice  of  propitiatory  sacrifices,  and  the  wide-spread  cus- 
tom of  burying  or  burning  all  the  wealth  with  each  man  (or  noted  woman) 
who  died.  Thus  the  demand  was  always  greater  than  the  supply,  and  a 
high  value  maintained.  It  is  astonishing  to  read  how  shrewd  and  thrifty 
the  Indians  were  in  respect  to  this  shell  coinage.  When  Americans  grew 
numerous,  and  began  to  manufacture  large  quantities  of  the  hawok,  of 
course  its  value  declined ;  moreover,  with  the  partial  civilization  of  the 
Indians,  a  new  sentiment  crept  in,  and  some  strange  changes  in  primitive 
social  economy  followed. 

At  present  the  younger  English-speaking  Indians  scarcely  use  it  at  all, 
except  in  a  few  dealings  with  their  elders,  like  wife-buying,  or  for  gam- 
bling; A  young  fellow  sometimes  procures  it  as  an  investment,  laying 
away  a  few  strings  of  it,  for  he  knows  that  he  cannot  squander  it  at  the 


SENTIMENTAL  REGARD  FOR  SHELL-MONEY.          24:7 

stores;  whereas  if  he  really  needs  a  few  dollars  of  current  cash  he  can 
always  "  negotiate  "  his  shells  with  some  old  Indian  who  happens  to  have 
gold  or  greenbacks.  Americans  speculate  in  it  here  and  there  to  advan- 
tage, working  upon  the  clinging  love  the  aged  savages  retain  for  the 
wealth  of  their  youth.  These  old  men  save  all  of  it  they  can  possibly 
acquire,  and  hoard  it  like  veritable  misers,  only  on  great  occasions  letting 
their  women-folk  wear  any  as  jewellery.  This  hoarding  is  not  so  much 
miserly  greed,  however,  as  it  is  a  religious  notion,  since  to  their  minds 
the  shell-money  is  the  only  thing  worthy  to  be  offered  upon  the  funeral 
pyre  of  any  famous  chief  or  departed  friend,  or  to  be  sent  along  with  their 
own  souls  into  the  spirit- world. 


INDEX. 


Abalone  (Haliotis),  221-226. 
shell-jewellery,  224. 
Agassiz,  Alexander,  78,  79,  88. 

"       Professor  Louis,  78. 
Alligator  (Alligator  mississippiensis)  in  win- 
ter, 65. 

Allocochick.     (See  Shell-money.) 
Amateurs  in  natural  science,  50. 
Ancistrodon  contortrix,  91,  95. 
pisciwrus,  91,  94. 
Ant  elopes  (Antilocapra  americana)  in  winter, 

74. 

Antilocapra  americana,  74. 
Antlers,  growth  of,  168-172. 
Area  plexata,  135. 
ArchiteutMs,  161, 164. 
Asterias  arenicola,  124. 
"        vulgaris,  124. 
Astragalinus  tristis,  15. 

Basilisk,  the,  28. 
Batrachians,  64. 
Bats  in  winter,  72. 
Bearded  seal,  188, 
Bears  in  winter,  74. 
Bee-marten.     (See  King-bird.) 
Birds  and  Serpents,  28,  30,  96. 

' '     effect  of  terror  upon,  29,  96. 

"     in  winter,  66,  68. 

"     mimicking  powers  of,  22. 

"     of  a  brookside,  39. 

"     pugnacity  of,  27. 

"     vigilance  of,  22. 
Blarina  brevicauda,  33. 
Blind  animals,  216. 
Blood-quahaug  (Area  plexata'),  135. 
Blue-bird  (Sialia  sialis),  26. 
Bob  White,  a  chat  about,  175-181. 
Borer,  the,  145. 
Brook,  attractive  features  of  a,  39. 


Butterflies  in  winter,  61. 
Butting  a  log,  14. 

CallinecUs  hastatm,  147. 
Cancer  irroratus,  147. 
Cariacm  macrotis,  74. 

"        mrginianus,  74. 
Carolina  wren,  22-26..  27. 
Caudisona  tergemina,  91. 
Caves,  animal  life  of,  215. 
"     at  Luray,  203. 
"     at  Pike's  Peak,  216-220. 
"      characteristics  of,  203-220. 
' '     formation  of,  in  limestone,  206. 
Centronyx  bairdi,  57. 
Cervus  canadensis,  168. 
Chcetura  pelasgia,  66. 
Chelopus  muhlenbergii,  56. 
Chewink.     (See  Towhee  Finch.) 
Chipping  sparrows  (Spizella  socialis),  21. 
Clam,  hard  or  round.     (See  Quahaug.) 
Cliona  sulphurea,  149. 

Coiling,  tendency  towards,  in  mollusks,  117. 
Conch-shells,  137,  232. 
'Coon  oysters.     (See  Ostrea  mrginiana.) 
Coot,  eating  star-fishes,  136. 
Copperhead  (Ancistrodon  contortrix),  91,  95. 
Cowry  (Cyprcea  moneta),  227. 
Crab,  common  shore,  147. 
"     in  the  oyster,  148. 
"     soft-shelled,  147. 
"     the  blue,  147. 
Crepidula  fornicata,  118. 
Crotalida,  origin  of  name,  90. 
Crotalus  admanteus,  92. 

"      confluentus,  93. 

"      7iorridus,  90. 

"      kirtlandi,  92. 

"      miliaria,  92. 
Curiosity  in  small  animals,  97,  100. 


250 


INDEX. 


Cuttle-fishes,  181. 

edible,  of  Puget  Sound,  165. 
Cyprcea  moneta,  227. 
Cystophora  cristata,  186, 188,  191. 

Deer  in  winter,  74. 

"    the  eastern  (Cariacus  mrginianus),  74. 
Deer,  the  mule  (Cariacus  macrotis),  74. 
Dendmca  (estiva,  21. 
Dentalium-mouey,  244. 
Devil-fishes,  a  practical  view  of,  161-167. 
Didelphys  mrginiana,  69. 
Distribution,  local,  of  animal  life,  55. 
Dogs  used  in  hunting  seals,  192. 
Donax  variaMlis,  156. 
Dove  (Zenaidura  carolmensis),  note  of,  26. 
Dredging  apparatus,  84. 
Drill,  the,  145. 
Drum-fish  (Pogonias  chromis),  142. 

Echo,  myth  of,  the,  91. 
Eggs  of  oyster,  113. 
Elk  (Cervus  canadensis),  168. 
Embryology  of  oyster,  114. 

of  star-fishes,  125. 
EretMzon  dorsatus,  73. 
Erignathus  barbatus,  186. 
Eskimo  method  of  seal-hunting,  190, 194. 

Fascination  accounted  for,  28,  95. 
Field-naturalist,  a  model,  54. 
Fishes  as  oyster  enemies,  142. 

"      in  winter,  63. 
Five-finger.    (See  Star-fish.) 
Five,  significance  of,  among  Radiates,  120. 
Floe-rat.    (See  Ringed  Seal.) 
Flounders,  color  changes  in,  82. 
"  reared  from  eggs,  87. 

Food  of  seals,  196. 
Fright,  stupefaction  from,  29,  37,  96. 
Frog,  tree  (Hyla  verstcolor),  15,  64. 

"     wood  (Rdna  temporaries,  var.  sylvati- 

ca),  15,  65. 

Fulgur  carica,  137, 138,  232. 
Fulica  americana,  136. 
Fungus  in  caves,  216. 
"       in  winter,  49. 

Geology  of  caves,  203-220. 
Goldfinch  (Astragalinm  tristis),  15. 
Graybeard  hydroids,  149. 


Ground-squirrels,  70. 

Gulf  Stream,  effect  of,  on  animal  life,  77,  87. 

Gulls,  burgomaster,  192. 

Gulo  luscus,  76. 

Haliotis  family,  221-226,  245. 

"     Chinese  uses  of,  222,  224. 

"     Indian  uses  of,  226,  245. 
Harbor-seal,  182. 
Hares  in  winter,  69. 
Harp-seal,  186,  188,  191. 
Hawok.     (See  Shell-money.) 
Herons  when  a  heronry  burns,  29. 
Heterodon  platyrhinus,  101. 
Hiqua.     (See  Shell-money.) 
Hirundo  erytkrogastra,  26. 
Hog-nose  snake  (Heterodon  platyrhinus),  101. 
Hooded  seal,  186,  188,  191. 
Hummingbirds,  27. 
Hyla  versicvlor,  15. 

llyanassa  obsoleta,  146. 

Indian  beads.     (See  Shell-money.) 

"      methods  of  boring,  234,  243. 

"      money  and  trade,  226-247. 
Infusoria,  58. 

Ink  from  cuttle-fishes,  166. 
Insects  in  winter,  58. 

Joree.     (See  Towhee  Finch.) 

Kassigiak.     (See  Harbor-  seal.) 
King-bird  (Tyrannus  carolinensis),  27. 
King^snake  (Ophiobolus  sayi),  102. 
Kol-kol.    (See  Shell-money.) 

Laboratory,  Agassiz's  sea-side,  78. 

Larus  glaucus,  192. 

Limpet,  the  slipper  (Crepidulafornicatd),  118. 

Linyphiaweyeri,  215. 

Lizards  in  winter,  65. 

Loligopallida,  161. 

"     pealei,  161. 

"     sagittata,  164. 


Lunatia  Jieros,  145. 
Luray  caverns,  203-216. 

Makira  money,  229. 
Malayta  money,  229. 
Mangrove,  characteristics  of,  151. 


INDEX. 


251 


Mangrove  key,  history  of  a,  150-155. 

Massasauga  (Caudisona  tergemina),  91. 

Medicinal  qualities  of  the  rattlesnake,  107. 

Melospiza  melodia,  21. 

Merula  migratorius,  26. 

Mice  and  rats,  wild,  70. 

Migrations  of  seals,  188,  195. 

Moccasin  (Ancistrodon  pisciwrus),  91,  94. 

Mockingbirds  and  rattlesnake,  30. 

Modiola  plicatula,  146. 

Mole  (Scalops  aquaticus),  72. 

Mollusks  as  oyster  enemies,  119-146. 

Moths,  sphinx,  61. 

Mussels  as  oyster  pests,  146. 

Myriapods  of  caves,  215. 

Neosorex,  32,  37. 

Netsick.     (See  Ringed  Seal.) 

Ocean,  distribution  of  life  in,  77. 
Octopus  granulatus,  161,  166. 

"      punctatus,  165. 
Ommastrephes  illecebrosa,  161. 
Operculum,  use  of,  117. 
Ophiobolus  sayi,  102. 
Ophiurans,  130. 

Opossum  (DidelpJiys  mrginiana)  in  winter,  69. 
Ormer  shell.     (See  Haliotis.) 
Ortyx  mrginianus,  175. 
Ostrea  mrginiana,  113. 
Oven-bird.     (See  Water-thrush.) 
Omilum  angulosum,  228. 
Oyster  (Ostrea  mrginiana),  113. 

"      enemies  of,  119-149. 

"      on  the  Florida  coast,  150. 

PagopMlus  groenlandicus,  186. 

Partridge.     (See  Quail.) 

Pearl  images  of  Buddha,  224. 

Pedicellarise  of  star-fish,  120. 

Periwinkles  and  oyster  pests,  137-149. 

Philampelus  labruscce,  60. 

Phocafcetida,  186. 

Phoca  mtulina,  182, 187. 

Pinnotheres  ostreum,  148. 

Pipilo  erythropthalmus,  30. 

Pogonias  chromis,  142. 

Pompano  (Trachynotus  carolinus),  food  of, 

160. 

Pompano-shells,  the,  156-160. 
Porcupine  (Erethizon  dorsatus),  73. 


Pugnacity  in  small  animals,  36. 
Purpura  lapillus,  145. 

Quadrupeds  in  winter,  68. 

Quahaug  (  Venus  mercenaries),  232,  239. 

Quail,  the  American  (Ortyx  mrginianus),  175. 

Rails,  when  flooded  out,  30. 

Rana  sylvatica,  15,  65. 

Rattle  of  rattlesnake,  purpose  of,  97. 

Rattlesnakes  (see  Crotalus),  90-112. 

Reptiles,  expression  in,  101. 

Ringed  seal,  186,  188. 

Robin  (Merula  migratoria),  26. 

Sandpiper,  spotted  (Tringoides  macularius), 

41. 

Saxidomus  auratus,  244. 
Scalops  aquaticus,  72. 
Scent,  retention  of,  in  quail,  179. 
Sciurus  carolinensis,  72. 

"      hudsonius,  72. 
Sea-ear.     (See  Haliotis.) 
Sea-grapes  (eggs  of  squid),  146. 
Sea-necklaces,  139. 
Sea-stars.     (See  Star-fish.) 
Seal,  bearded  (Erignathus  barbatus),  188. 

"     common.    (See  Harbor-seal.) 

"     the  Greenland.     (See  Harp-seal.) 

"     the  harbor  (Phoca  vitulina),  182. 

'  '     the  harp  (PagopMlus  gmnlandicus),  186, 

188,  199. 
Seal,  the  hooded  (CystopJwra  cristata),  186, 

188,  191. 

Seal,  the  ringed  (PJwca  fatida),  186,  188. 
Seals,  former  abundance  of,  182. 
Sepia,  or  India  ink,  source  of,  166. 
Serpulidae  on  oysters,  149,  152. 
Sertularia  argentea,  149. 
Shell-heaps  in  Florida,  154,  155. 
Shell-money  of  primitive  races,  227-247. 

of  Pacific  coast,  240. 
"  southern  varieties  of,  241. 

Shells  as  a  defence,  116,  128. 
Shrew,  etymology,  38. 
long-tailed,  32. 

"       short-tailed  (Blarina  brevicauda),  33. 
Sialia  sialis,  26. 
Siurus  auricapillus,  47. 


navius,  43,  46. 


252 


INDEX. 


Six  yeux.    (See  Haliotis.) 

Snails  in  winter,  61. 

Snakes  in  winter,  66. 

Song-sparrow  (Melospiza  melodia),  21. 

Sorex,  32. 

Soricida,  32,  72. 

South  Sea  Islands,  primitive  money  of,  228. 

Sparrow,  Baird's  (Centronyx  bairdii),  57. 
*'        chipping,  21. 
song,  21,  22. 

Spiders,  water,  58, 62. 

Spirostrephon  copei,  215. 

Spizella  socialis,  21. 

Sponges,  fresh-water,  58. 

"       parasitic  on  oysters,  149. 

Square-flipper.     (See  Bearded  Seal. ) 

Squids  as  oyster  enemies,  146. 
"      and  cuttles  as  food,  164. 

Squirrel,  gray  (Sciurus  carolinensu),  17,  70, 
72. 

Squirrel,  red  (Sciurus  hudsonius),  71. 
"        rescuing  a  young,  17. 

Stalactites,  formation  of,  209,  219. 

Star-fish  and  their  mischief,  119-136. 

Sting-ray,  stingaree,  144. 

Swallow,  barn  (Hirundo  erythrogastra),  26. 

Swallows,  hibernation  of,  66. 

Swallowing  of  young  snakes  by  their  moth- 
er, 91. 

Swamp-robin.     (See  Towhee  Finch.) 

Swift,  chimney  (Chcetura  pelasgia},  66. 

Sword-fish  attacking  seals,  186,  187. 

Sycotypus  canaliculatus,  137, 141,  232. 

Symbolism  of  serpents,  110. 

Thryothorus  ludovicianus,  22,  27. 

Toads  in  winter,  64. 

Topics  in  natural  history  for  social  study,  53. 

Torpidity,  animal,  61,  66. 

Tortoises  and  turtles  in  winter,  65. 

Towhee  finch  (Pipilo  erythroptJialmus),  30. 

Trachynotus  carolinus,  160. 

Tree-toad.    (See  Tree-frog.) 


Tringoides  macularius,  41,  43. 

Tritia  trimtata,  146. 

Turtle,  Muhlenberg's  (Chelopus  mu/ilenbergii) 

56. 

Tusk-shells.     (See  Dentalium\ 
Tyrannus  carolinensis,  27. 

Ullo.    (See  Shell-money.) 
Urosalpinx  cinerea,  145. 

Vanessa  antiopa,  61. 
"       progne,  61. 
Venus  mercenaria,  232. 
Venus's  ear.     (See  Haliotis.) 
Vitrina  snails,  62. 

Wagtail.     (See  Water-thrush.) 

Wampum.     (See  Shell-money.) 

Wapiti.     (See  Elk.) 

Warbler,  yellow  (Dendrwca  cestiva},  21. 

Water-thrush,  golden-crowned  (Slums  aurl- 

capillus),  47. 
Water-thrush,  large-billed  (Siurus  motacilla), 

44,47. 

Water-thrush,  Louisiana,  44,  47. 
New  York,  43,  46. 
small -billed  (Siurus   ncevius), 
43,  46. 

Weasels  and  martens,  76. 
Wedge-shells.     (See  Donax.) 
Winkle,  or  wrinkle,  137. 
Winter,  animals  of,  58-76. 

"      effect  of,  on  fur  and  plumage,  76. 
"      quails  in,  180. 
"      work  for  naturalists,  49. 
Wolverine  (Gulo  luscus),  76. 
Worms,  58. 

Wren,  Bewick's  (Thryothorus  bewickii],  56. 
"     Carolina  (Thryothorus  Ludomcianus), 
22-26,  27. 

Yellow  warbler,  21. 

Zenaidura  carolinensis,  26. 
Zygonopus  whitei,  215. 


THE    END. 


INTERESTING  WORKS 

ON 

NATUEAL  HISTOKY. 


Biart's  Adventures  of  a  Young  Naturalist, 

The  Adventures  of  a  Young  Naturalist.  By  LUCIEN  BIART.  Edited 
and  Adapted  by  PARKER  GILLMORE.  With  117  Illustrations.  12mo, 
Cloth,  $1  75. 

Gillmore's  Prairie  and  Forest, 

Prairie  and  Forest :  a  Description  of  the  Game  of  North  America,  with 
Personal  Adventures  in  their  Pursuit.  By  PARKER  GILLMORE.  Illus- 
trated. 12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

Darwin's  Voyage  of  a  Naturalist, 

Voyage  of  a  Naturalist.  Journal  of  Researches  into  the  Natural  His- 
tory and  Geology  of  the  Countries  visited  during  the  Voyage  of  H.M.S. 
Beagle  round  the  World.  By  CHARLES  DARWIN,  M.A.,  F.R.S.  2  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

What  Mr,  Darwin  Saw. 

What  Mr.  Darwin  Saw  in  his  Voyage  round  the  World  in  the  Ship 
Beagle.  With  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

Greenwood's  Wild  Sports  of  the  World, 

Wild  Sports  of  the  World :  a  Book  of  Natural  History  and  Adventure. 
By  JAMES  GREENWOOD.  Illustrated.  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

Hooker's  Natural  History, 

Natural  History.  For  the  Use  of  Schools  and  Families.  By  WORTII- 
INGTON  HOOKER,  M.D.  Nearly  300  Ill's.  12mo,  Half  Leather,  90  cts. 

Hooker's  Child's  Book  of  Nature, 

The  Child's  Book  of  Nature,  for  the  Use  of  Families  and  Schools  :  in- 
tended to  aid  Mothers  and  Teachers  in  Training  Children  in  the  Ob- 
servation of  Nature.  By  WORTHINGTON  HOOKER,  M.D.  Illustrated. 
Small  4to,  Half  Leather,  $1  00. 

Pike's  Sub -Tropical  Rambles, 

Sub-Tropical  Rambles  in  the  Land  of  the  Aphanapteryx  :  Personal  Ex- 
periences, Adventures,  and  Wanderings  in  and  about  the  Island  of  Mau- 
ritius. By  NICHOLAS  PIKE.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

Jaeger's  North  American  Insects, 

The  North  American  Insects,  with  Numerous  Illustrations.  By  Pro- 
fessor JAEGER,  assisted  by  H.  C.  PRESTON,  M.D.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 


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Kingsley's  West  Indies, 

At  Last :  a  Christmas  in  the  West  Indies.  By  CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 
Illustrated.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

Lewes's  Studies  in  Animal  Life, 

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Smiles's  Scotch  Naturalist, 

Life  of  a  Scotch  Naturalist :  Thomas  Edward,  Associate  of  the  Linnaean 
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Spry' s  Cruise  of  the  "Challenger," 

The  Cruise  of  Her  Majesty's  Ship  Challenger.  Voyages  over  many  Seas, 
Scenes  in  many  Lands.  By  W.  J.  J.  SPRY,  R.N.  With  Map  and  Illus- 
trations. Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

Thomson's  Voyage  of  the  "Challenger," 

The  Atlantic  :  An  Account  of  the  General  Results  of  the  Voyage  of  the 
Challenger  during  the  Years  1873  and  1876.  By  Sir  C.  WYVILLE  THOM- 
SON, F.R.S.  With  a  Portrait  of  the  Author,  Colored  Maps,  Temperature 
Charts,  and  Illustrations.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $12  00. 

Wallace's  Island  Life, 

Island  Life ;  or,  The  Phenomena  of  Insular  Faunas  and  Floras,  with 
their  Causes.  Including  an  entire  revision  of  the  Problem  of  Geolog- 
ical Climates.  By  ALFRED  RUSSEL  WALLACE.  With  Illustrations  and 
Maps.  8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

Wallace's  Geographical  Distribution  of  Animals, 

The  Geographical  Distribution  of  Animals.  With  a  Study  of  the  Rela- 
tions of  Living  and  Extinct  Faunas,  as  Elucidating  the  Past  Changes  of 
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Treat's  Chapters  on  Ants. 

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White's  Selborne, 

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Rev.  J.  G.  Wood's  Works. 

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Bush's  Reindeer,  Dogs,  and  Snow-shoes, 

Reindeer,  Dogs,  and  Snow-shoes:  a  Journal  of  Siberian  Travel  and  Ex- 
plorations made  in  the  Years  1865-'67.  By  RICHARD  J.  BUSH.  Illus- 
trated. Crown  8 vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

Orion's  Comparative  Zoology, 

Comparative  Zoology,  Structural  and  Systematic.  By  JAMES  ORTON, 
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$1  80. 

Orion's  Andes  and  the  Amazon, 

The  Andes  and  the  Amazon ;  or,  Across  the  Continent  of  South  Amer- 
ica. By  JAMES  ORTON,  Ph.D.  Third  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged, 
containing  Notes  of  a  Second  Journey  Across  the  Continent  from  Para 
to  Lima  and  Lake  Titicaca.  With  Maps  and  Ill's.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

Ernest  Ingersoll's  Works, 

Knocking  Bound  the  Rockies,    Illustrated.    8vo,  Cloth,  $2  oo. 

Friends  Worth  Knowing,  Glimpses  of  American  Natural  History. 
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Country  Cousins,  Short  Studies  in  the  Natural  History  of  the  United 
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Gibson's  Camp  Life  in  the  Woods, 

Camp  Life  in  the  Woods;  and  the  Tricks  of  Trapping  and  Trap 
Making.  Containing  Comprehensive  Hints  on  Camp  Shelter,  Wood- 
land Beds,  Boat  and  Canoe  Building,  Trappers'  Food,  &c.  With  Ex- 
tended Chapters  on  the  Trapper's  Art;  Detailed  Instructions  for  the 
Capture  of  all  Fur-Bearing  Animals ;  Valuable  Recipes  for  the  Curing 
and  Tanning  of  Fur  Skins,  &c.  By  W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON,  Author  of 
.  "Pastoral  Days."  Illustrated  by  the  Author.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

Wolf's  Wild  Animals. 

The  Life  and  Habits  of  Wild  Animals.  Illustrated  from  Designs  by 
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ELLIOT.  4to,  Cloth,  Gilt  Edges,  $5  00. 

Jones's  South  Pacific, 

Life  and  Adventures  in  the  South  Pacific.  By  JONES.  Illustrated. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

Hunting  Adventures  on  Land  and  Sea,    By  Thos.  W,  Knox, 

Part  I,  The  Young  Nimrods  in  North  America,  Copiously  Illus- 
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Davis's  Nimrod  of  the  Sea, 

Nimrod  of  the  Sea  ;  or,  The  American  Whaleman.  By  WILLIAM  M. 
DAVIS.  Illustrated.  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 


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Murphy's  Sporting  Adventures  in  the  Far  West, 

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12rao,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

Morris's  Dogs  and  their  Doings, 

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Square  8vo,  Cloth,  Gilt  Sides,  $1  75. 

Rennie's  Natural  History  of  the  Elephant, 

Natural  History  of  the  Elephant,  as  he  exists  in  a  Wild  State,  and  as  he 
has  been  made  subservient,  in  Peace  and  in  War,  to  the  Purposes  of 
Man.  By  Prof.  JAMES  RENNIE.  Illustrated.  18mo,  Cloth,  75  cents. 

Rennie's  Natural  History  of  Quadrupeds, 

Natural  History  of  Quadrupeds.  By  Prof.  JAMES  RENNIE.  Illustrated. 
18mo,  Cloth,  75  cents. 

Children's  Natural  History  Picture -Books, 

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Picture-Book  of  Sagacity  of  Animals,  — Picture -Book  of  Birds,— 
Picture-Book  of  Quadrupeds  and  other  Mammalia, 

Paul  B,  Du  Chaillu's  Works, 

A  Journey  to  AshangO-Landj  and  Penetration  into  Equatorial  Africa. 
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My  Apingi  Kingdom  :  With  Life  in  the  Great  Sahara,  and  Sketches  of 
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Hallock's  Fishing  Tourist, 

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